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Chapter Text

The day was hot. Clear. Perfect. The dirt underfoot, crumbling in clots beneath Ryu's toes was blistering. You could see the heat waving like the aurora in the air. Prince Ryu shifted the heavy camping gear, one shoulder to the other, like an old friend, and wove his way through the bubbling mineral pools to his favourite spot. Squinting out over the horizon, he could see the peak of the Basalt Tower, thrown into the shade of the mountainside.

His fishing rod he rested across his shoulder. At the end of the line, the familiar tug as the lure bobbed up, down, up, like a hopping frog. When he reached his spot, he sat, slouching back against the warm, smooth rock at the side of the pool, and pulled out his jar of bait.

"Morning boys," he said, examining the wriggling beetles. "Who's up for a dip in the pond today?"

He cast far into the pool, where the steamfish liked to congregate. Then he gripped the rod between his thighs, and laid back. The sun had lain in a perfect, white scalding circle upon the water; now, the lure divided it into rippling bars. He closed his eyes, to feel the heat on his eyelids. Prince Ryu had never been sunburnt. His people, only known as the People did not burn in the sun; only bronze further. Sunburn itself was very funny joke, played on those from delicate countries to the south.

There was a bite on the line, and he sat up, but it got away. It didn't bother Ryu. The heat made had him feel sleepy and stupid. He caught sight of himself reflected in the pool, and it startled him. He looked away.

His eyes sunk like the bobbing lure, and for a while he fell into a sun-induced stupor. Ryu's mind was wonderfully, mercifully blank.

"Hey, bro."

But, of course...

"If you're trying to hide out here, you really outta find a new spot next time. You trying to bore me?"

"I didn't realise it was my job to entertain you, Sevvy," Ryu said. He kept his eyes closed. He hoped that Sevvy might just be a mirage, and when he opened them, he would vanish. He groaned, inwardly, as he heard the scuff of his brother's sandals on the dirt as he sat down next to him.

"Trying to get some beauty sleep?" Sevvy said, hoping for a reaction, Ryu supposed. He ignored him, still hoping he'd catch the idea and go away. Of course, though, Sevvy never did.

For a few minutes it was strangely silent, only Sevvy's slight breathing. Then he said, "Bro, you've got a bite."

Ryu's eyes shot open. A golden glittering fish was struggling on the end of the line, scales flickering like candlelight in the sun. He reeled it in quickly. Ten inches. A good size.

"Nice one," said Sevvy.

Ryu broke the fish's neck with a satisfying snap, and said, "What do you want?"

"You mean there's no way I could convince you I came to find you for some quality bonding time?"

Ryu looked up at him. Sevvy, already long and lanky, was grinning like a cheshire cat.

"You could try," he told him, "or maybe, save both our time and tell me what it is you really want."

Sevvy gave his golden laugh. He was five years younger than Ryu at seventeen, but he still laughed like a little boy.

"You break my heart, bro," he said, and then he told him; "Mother's called a family meeting. She wants everyone back home."

Ryu looked away, at the band of clouds, hanging over the horizon. "Tell her you couldn't find me. I'm still M.I.A."

"You're not, though. I've seen you a few times. You've been circling the citadel for weeks," Sevvy pointed out.

Ryu recast, but here he paused.

"You saw me?" he said.

"Why not come home, Ryu?" Sevvy said, almost gently. "You haven't been back since last solstice."

"I prefer it out here. I'm living as our nomadic ancestors lived-"

"Except that our ancestors weren't antisocial goits," Sevvy said. Ryu stared. Then he set down my rod and stood.

"Are you asking me for a fi-"

Sevvy shoved him in the chest.

"I'm asking you to come home, you great big git. Everyone misses you."

Ryu paused, and turned away. He picked up his rod, his pack. "Yeah, well, I don't miss anybody."

He didn't look at him anymore. He didn't want to see him. Ryu just wanted to be alone. But Sevvy said, "Even if you don't, I should have mentioned: Mother says it's an order. If you don't come, she'll come and find you herself, and it'll be chargrill a'la Ryu."

When he turned back, Sevvy was gone; in the far distance there were wings beating the in the sky.

Prince Ryu swore under his breath. It seemed like, after six months, he was finally going home.

*

The citadel, the Basalt Tower, squatted like a crow beneath the craggy foothills that led to Mt Zavid. To find it you only had to follow the Fire Road, no road at all but a cracked molten river, which, a millenia ago, spewed like heaven's fire from the top of the mountain.

The gatemen rolled open the town gates when they saw the prince approaching.

It was livelier than Ryu even remembered. Or more likely, I've been in the wastes too long.

Women in wraps were singing as they they hung out the laundry, swinging babies in the other arm. Wild children play fought in the dirt, swinging blunted swords at one another, as he and his brothers had done, long ago. Overpowering smells of saffron, ginger and citrus invaded his senses, and reminded Ryu just how long ago his last proper meal was.

There came up a call of, "Prince Ryu! Prince Ryu!"" and the children came running, crowding around me. "Prince Ryu, you're back!"

The women looked up from their washing, the elders from their games, their engravings. Someone called, "The prodigal son returns!" and someone else, "Hey Ryu, how ya been?"

A scruffy looking tough boy in a loincloth asked him, "Prince Ryu, where did you go?"

"Oh, here and there," he said evasively. But looking at them, he couldn't help but smile, just a bit.

"Where? Where?" they said plaintively. "Tell us stories, like you used to Ryu."

He sat down on the old stone well. "Alright. But keep your pants on. Far to the north, past the mountain, I slept in a sacred grove our nomadic ancestors kept to Ladon. On..."

The children sat beside him, some cross-legged, others lounging on their elbows, as he told them; of the peaked mountains that signposted the end of the world; of the crystal caves, and their million colours, which had sparkled like a incandescent rainbow; and of the cedar trees to the south, as tall as gods.

And as he talked, he glanced up, and his voice trailed away like a banner without a breeze. Sarah stood some way away from the crowd, watching him silently.

"And then what happened?" one of the boys asked him eagerly.

"That's it," he said, all the warmth gone from his voice.

"But-"

"But nothing. Go back to your game."

He stood up sharply, and parting the crowd like water, approached Sarah. A good metre away, he stopped.

"Ryu. It's good to see you again. We were wondering when you were coming back," she said. Her turquoise hair hung in a sailor's rope down her breasts. In her arms she had a little baby swaddled in a blanket. Her other hand she held to her round stomach.

Ryu couldn't help but think about before; how wild she was, how free. Now, she was soft and contented, positively bovine. It made him ill to look at her.

"So what's this one on the way, number three?" he asked. He couldn't keep the ice sneaking into his voice. Somehow, he never could.

But if she heard it, Sarah didn't show it. With a flicker of her old mischievousness, she turned with a smile, to show the other the baby strapped to her back. "Four. It was twins," she said. "Didn't expect that one, I can tell you. Took it out of me. Adorable, aren't they?"

Ryu took a long hard look at the baby in her arms, which had scrunched up its red face and begun to cry.

"Like bouncing bundles of snot," he said.

Sarah's smile fell. She hastily put it back on. Took a step towards him, to say with earnest, "Ryu, I used to think the same way, but once you experience motherhood for yourself, it-"

Ryu turned his back on her, and started walking very quickly towards the citadel. Sarah's hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh Ryu, wait! I'm sorry- I forgot. Please wait!" she hurried after him.

"What, so you can insult me more?" he shot back at her. She was chasing him through the market, vendors turning their heads to stare.

"Please Ryu, can't we walk? It isn't because of Locke and I that you stay out of Dracon, is it?"

He spun back on her. "Don't give yourself so much credit," he snarled at her. He expected her to say something cruel back, but startlingly, she begun to cry.

"Please, Ryu? I can't stand what's happened between us. Can't we be friends again?"

Somehow, her tears made him even angrier. Why didn't she shout? Why didn't she get mad? What good did crying do? It made him want to strike her, just so she'd strike him back.

He forced himself away from her. Coldly, he said, "We were never just 'friends' and until you remember that, I don't even want to look at you, or your squalling brats."

*

Ryu's blood was boiling. It felt like it was going to explode. He was storming through the stone corridors of the citadel, when-

As always, his anger burnt out. It always happened suddenly, like something being shut off. And left an empty space behind. He came to a standstill, and sunk down onto the base of a pillar. What burnt through his veins now was something entirely different: shame.

Just what was wrong with him?

He'd been back in Dracon five minutes and he'd already let Sarah get to him. What good did hurting her do? It didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it made him feel worse.

He'd made a fool of himself, again.

He felt like punching someone. Instead, he punched the wall.

"I can always tell when you're home Prince Ryu. You just follow the holes in the décor."

From round the corner in the citadel was his old swordsmaster, Lebanon, one of the few people he was grateful to see.

"Master Lebanon," he said, leaping up to grip his hand.

"I have to tell you, young prince, there was talk we might never see you again. It's good to have you back." And to Ryu's silence he said, "Though I can tell you're already thinking of how soon you can leave."

Ryu's eyes dulled over. "Out there, it's easier, Lebanon. I've never fitted in here, you know that."

The old man's eyes seemed to pierce him. "And out there, you feel as though you do, hm?"

His immediate response was "Yes," but Ryu paused, because that wasn't quite right. "No," he said. "But everything out there is alone. The rocks and the trees and the stars. They feel what I feel. There's no real such thing as intimacy in this world. I sleep under the stars at night and feel their loneliness and my own, and it makes it something majestic. It's... comforting."

Ryu had drawn so far inside himself that when he returned, the sad look on Lebanon's face startled him.

"You're too young to think such things, child."

The doors to the antechamber were flung open, and Sevvy strode through. "Bro, you made it." And when he noticed the hole in the wall he glanced from it to Lebanon and said, "Whoah! Who pissed Ryu off?"

Lebanon turned to go, but before he did, he said to Ryu, " Come visit me before you leave. Promise me this?"

Ryu nodded. And then Sevvy gave him a shove forward. "C'mon. Mother's waiting for us in the counsel room."

They walked forward together through the high vaulted stone corridors lit with braziers, decorated with old, dulled tapestries.

"You know what this is about?" Ryu asked.

Sevvy shrugged sleekly. The sound of their sandals echoed down the corridor.

"Not sure. I think I heard something about Wyndia."

"Wyndia? I figured it'd be about more trouble with that clan that's taken root in the basin."

Sevvy laughed. "Clearly the wild pigs aren't much up on recent events, huh? Mother made a truce with them months ago. Had them sign up a treaty and everything."

"Wait. A truce? Why?"

"We're all about peace and love here know, don't you know? Also the First Ranger told me some of the poor fools wandered into the Wyrmwood. If that wasn't a deterrent I don't know what is," Sevvy said. Ryu winced. Not a fate he'd wish on anyone. 

"Anyway, I doubt Wyndia will be sending out any party invitations at present, so don't get your hopes up for anything exciting," Sevvy continued. 

"How so?"

"Haven't you heard? King Philip's daughter died."

"One of the twin princesses? When? And which one?"

He was so shocked he stopped in his tracks. Sevvy paused.

"You really are out of the loop. Must have been soon after you left, I guess." Here he looked subdued. "It was Princess Christina. A shame. I liked her."

"Me too," said Ryu, thinking back to the tour she'd made to Dracon some years ago.

How long had it been, since he'd thought of that night?

"Anyway," Sevvy said, heading towards the antechamber. "Locke was disappointed about the treaty. Mother was going to let him lead the first battle." Ryu saw, out the corner of eyes, Sevvy glance at him to see how he took this. But he said nothing. He was thinking of battle; the release of claws and jaws and no one to hold him. Ripping them to shreds, someone, anyone...

Ryu closed his eyes and shut them tight.

Sevvy said, "Alright?"

"Yeah."

They made their way through the throne room, past the seat formed from volcanic rock, where their father, long ago, had once sat.

"So listen. That hole in the wall..."

"I met Sarah."

"I though you might have." He continued quickly, "I told her just to leave you alone, but she didn't listen to me."

He glanced again, quickly, at Ryu to gauge his reaction. Ryu pushed open the door to the counsel room. "Well, Sarah never really listens to anyone, does she?" he said. He couldn't help but let a tiny bit of admiration infiltrate his voice.

*

The counsel room was at the base of the citadel, hewn into the rock of the mountainside itself. Tapestries dyed red as blood covered the walls, and moved in the yellow flickering light of the braziers.

Queen Brynhildr, leader of The People sat at the end of the war table, a powerful figure, her hair braided and beaded down to her waist, the colour of all who bore lineage of the dragon clan for the centuries past- blue.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryu saw his older brother, Locke. Even with his back set to the brazier, the deep disfiguring claw marks on his face were impossible to avoid. Narrowly missing blindness, they marred the left side of his face. Ryu kept his eyes fixed on the Queen. He and Sevvy approached. He bowed. "My Queen."

Brynhildr rose from her chair and swooped forward, clasping Ryu in an embrace.

"My wanderer, how long were you planning to stay away from us this time?"

"I wasn't ready to come back," Ryu said, burying his face in his mother's hair.

"I understand. Yet, if we all wait till we are ready, we'll be waiting forever."

She pulled back, and gestured to the table. "Come and sit. I've important news, for all three of you."

Ryu sat, pulling up the chair with a scrape. Sevvy took a seat beside him. Fixing his eyes on his other brother across the table, he said without emotion, "Locke."

Locke nodded in reply. "Ryu."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Sevvy said, "Maybe it really is party invitations? I bet thirty zenny that-"

"If you wait, Sevvy, I'll tell you," Brynhildr replied, with a certain tempered patience.

From the pocket of her robes, she withdraw a letter, and slid it onto the table. It was embossed with the royal Wyndian seal; a sword crossed with wings.

"Knew it!" started Sevvy. Brynhildr silenced him with a withering look. He zipped his mouth shut.

With two fingers, she slid the letter to Locke. "Read it." He picked it up, and Ryu watched his eyes moving quickly across the paper.

When he'd finished, the spat the word, "Savage," and he thrust the letter to Sevvy. With curiosity, Ryu looked over Sevvy's shoulder to read.

To Queen Brynhildr of the Dragon Clan,

In a month's time my daughter, her Highness the princess Nina is to be wed. All noblemen of lineage from across the nine lands are welcome to come and vy for her hand. In one fortnight time Games will begin, the winner of which will wed my daughter.

I would like to cordially invite your sons, the three princes of Dracon to take part in the Games.

Philip Wyndia, King of Wyndia, protector of the Faith.

"Games?" Sevvy said, in bafflement. "Are we supposed to win her then, like a trophy?"

"It's one of the more barbarian traditions of the south," Brynhildr said. "They give their girl children away like prizes to be won. Though I have to say I never thought Philip would give away one of his darling daughters this way. Something has changed in Wyndia."

Ryu snatched the letter out of Sevvy's hands. He was studying one particular line of text. His brows knotted together. "It says, 'three princes.'"

"Yes."

Ryu looked at her with a question in his eyes. She said, "Are you not then, a prince of Dracon?"

Locke stood violently. He slammed his hands down onto the table. "You have to be kidding me. Mother, you're really not planning to-"

She sat, quite calmly in her seat. "You have an objection?" she said coldly.

"Ladon's fire, I do. What is Wyndia going to do when they find out the thing their princess had been married to is-"

Ryu's chair toppled back. He slammed both his hands, bam, against the table. "Say it." The words left him in a snarl. "Say it, and I'll give you another pretty scar to match the other cheek."

"Silence!" Brynhilda was standing now, face red with rage, and somehow Sevvy was up on his feet too. She said, "You will be silent. You-" she whirled on Locke, "you will treat your brother with the respect he deserves. Yes, brother." And when Ryu opened his mouth to agree, the finger was pointing his way. "You, Ryu, will control your temper. You will not threaten your brother, nor harm him. I'm sick of this infighting, this war between kin. I will tolerate no more violence in this house. If you are Locke's brother you will treat him as a brother. And you, Sevothtarte," she turned on Sevvy, who as always, looked worried at the use of his full name, "just sit down, Sevvy."

Brynhildr sat, her head in her hands. Quietly, with the scraping of chairs, her sons sat down. The silence stretched on. Sevvy looked as though he was about to crack a joke, but thought better of it.

Finally, Brynhildr said, with heaviness, "I'm sending all three of you. Tomorrow, you will leave for Wyndia. Any arguments?"

Silence. She looked, particularly, at Locke, who swore and said Sarah's name under his breath.

"Good," said Brynhildr. "Ladon knows, maybe you'll even have a good time. But at least there will be peace and quiet in Dracon for a few weeks." She stood, gathered her skirts around her and left through the beaded entrance towards the back of the counsel chamber.

There was quiet around the table. Ryu imagined his brothers were thinking the same thing he was: about the tournament, and how exactly they were going to get through this next month without killing one another.

To be continued.

Chapter Text

Some years ago.

The Oracle was calling to her. Of that the sibyllae were sure. But when the priests came to speak to King Philip of such matters, he was unnerved.

"Dreams? Of (or?) visions? Such things are better left unsaid gentlemen." He poked uneasily at his grilled venison. All this talk was putting him off his food- a mean feat to do.

"Your Majesty, the Oracle may want to impart to the Princess her destiny."

Here, the King put his fork down. "Her? Are you talking about Nina or Christina?" Even the names sounded strange in his mouth, like foreign food. This was a distinction seldom made. The twin princesses were a singular entity, two prints of the same picture.

The following events, however, were the turning point that would separate them.

"Her Highness the Princess Christina, your Majesty."

The King tapped his knife against the plate. "Very well," he said, voice with the same tang as sour wine. He glanced at the two pestering priests at the end of the long table. He couldn't stand priests. "Send them both. Perhaps it'll do them some good to see the country a bit."

"Both?" one of the priests protested. "But your Majesty, it was only Princess Christina who received the visitation. It would be-"

One look from the King however, and his words withered on the vine. Knitting needles clacked away down the table.

He continued, with indulgence, "It would be cruelty to separate them," before adding, "Besides, I can't split their nurse into two. So they can both go."

Without a word of goodbye, he went back to his food. The ignored priests coughed, whispered to one another, left.

But after a few moments, half way through cutting up his venison, he stopped, staring unhappily at his plate.

"Priests," he said, as though the word was a curse.

"Hmm," replied his wife. He gazed over at her. Rosetta was engrossed in her knitting, a forlock of white fallen over her face.

"Where are the girls anyway?" he said.

Rosetta's needles continued to clack. "Outside in the courtyard again, I imagine." She didn't look up as she spoke to him, only a brief furtive flick of the eyes from under her hair as she asked, "Did you want to speak to them?"

Philip pushed his chair back, went to the window. He looked out. "No. I'll let Olympias do it."

"Hmm," said his wife.

Looking down, he found his ten year old daughters half hidden by the koi pond, the bright sunshine caught in their hair. Both of them were sat by the water, dipping their feet in. One was Christina, the other Nina, but to tell the truth Philip could rarely tell them apart. To tell the truth, it didn't usually matter.

As he watched, one of his daughters tugged down a flower from the juniper tree and cast it on the water like a little boat. He watched then, as her sister copied her, plucking a flower, casting it, in the exact same motion.

He leant on the window frame, a pained look on his face. Rosetta's needles clattered on.

Finally he turned and exclaimed, "Would you stop that infernal racket for just one second? I can't hear myself think."

Silently, Rosetta put her needles down on the table, looking as though she'd been struck.

*

Under the the stencilled trellis of the flowering jasmine and juniper trees, Nina and her sister Christina sat watching the flowers float out across the water, their chitons hitched up to bob like foam around their knees.

"Maybe you shouldn't have told Olympias about the dreams," Nina said, pushing the flower-boat out further with her big toe, fascinated as it drifted out across the pond. "They're making a lot of noise about it." Her eyes followed the vines up to the dining room upstairs, from where she could still hear the boom of her father's loud voice. Christina's eyes followed hers, as though she was drawing a trail.

"It's strange," Christina said, taking a palmful of water in her hand, watching it seep between her fingers, and how skin reflected light, as she let it fall onto Nina's bare leg. "When I woke up I got that feeling, like when you've promised someone you'll go see them, but you've forgotten who. Are you sure you didn't feel it as well?"

Nina's face scrunched up, as if in pain. Occasionally, they shared dreams. But this time, she shook her head.

"No," she said bitterly.

It was a blisteringly hot day, the whole garden alive with buzzing and flurrying. The light cast their reflections perfectly on the water. Four girls with golden curls and soggy chitons. But when Christina shifted, it sent ripples across the water. The girls were gone; left only was a confused mess.

"Oh!" said Nina, as though she were in pain.

"Girls. Girls!" a muffled voice called. Their heads turned at the exact same instant. The sliding door slammed open with a clack, and under the wraiths of jasmine they could see the swollen ankles of their nurse. Olympias' voice twanged with impatience; "Girls! Are you here?"

With resignation, they crawled out from under the bushes, their dresses sticking slick to their clammy wet legs. At the sight of them, Olympias, who already had the berth of a bull, exhaled a furious breath from her nostrils.

"Someone call the matador," Nina whispered. Christina giggled.

"This is no laughing matter!" Olympias said, in her deep man's voice so much like her brother's; the butt of many of their jokes. "Filthy! Absolutely filthy. And your father wanting you ready to go by three-"

"Go?" asked Nina. "Go where?"

"The Oracle! And now I have get you scrubbed, not to mention-"

"The what?" said Christina.

"The Oracle!" Olympia fumed. "What does Pericades teach you? The sibyllan sisterhood at Mt. Glaus."

The girls were finally silent. Mt. Glaus was a name in a textbook, not even tangible.

Now Olympias was complaining, "-And all these things I do for your father, with no thanks. I'll be damned glad when the two of you become women, I can tell you. If he wasn't my brother, be assured I-

Nina tuned out. Christina was started to get that glazed look in her eyes as well. This was a rant they had to hear at least once a day. By this point it went through two sets of ears and out the other end.

Nina asked, "But why are we going to see the Oracle?"

Olympias started to smile. "Perhaps the King finally saw sense to induct you into the sisterhood? I'm sure you'd make hard-working sibyllae."

The girls went pale.

"Olympias, are you bullying my daughters again?"

The girls let out a shared breath of relief as Rosetta stepped up behind them, her maid at her side. Their mother was as calm and beautiful as always, though a twinge of annoyance pricked at her face as she looked at Olympias.

"Ah, no. Of course not your Majesty," she said with a quick little bow. "It's just that, you know, I like to tease them."

"I know you do," said Rosetta, frowning. "And although you may be my husband's sister, I will remind you that you remain here only on his goodwill."

Olympias purpled. Her mouth puckered with some retort, but at Rosetta's icy gaze it deflated.

"Your Majesty," she mumbled, with another bow, her sandals clop clopping on the stone as she beat a hasty retreat.

Nina and Christina ran to embrace their mother. "Mother, is it true? Is Father really sending us away to become sibyllae?" Christina asked, upset.

Rosetta gently prised them away, detaching Nina's wet fingers where they clung to her robe.

"Your nurse was just teasing you," she said. "You're going to the Oracle to speak with it. It's a great honour that most people never receive. So be on your best behaviour, yes?"

"Okay," they chanted.

"Then be good for Olympias and go pack your things." She eyed their dirty chitons. "And go change into something clean," she said.

*

After trying to be authoritative with it, shouting at it, Nina had no choice but to plead with the horse.

"Good boy. There's a good boy," she said, though he was being anything but good, bucking and rearing under her. She clung round the horse's neck like a shipwrecked sailor to a spar. "Please boy," she begged. "Come on."

The horse responding by throwing Nina clean off. A tuft of mane came off in her hand, and she hit the ground with a thump and cloud of dust.

The rest of the escort halted, again, and one of the newer recruits, Dante, leapt from his mount to kneel by her side.

"You alright Princess?" he said.

She blinked up at him, the sun bright in her eyes. "Y-yeah."

When the rest of the convey saw she okay, they burst into laughter. Sat up, Nina stared at them, winded and stupid.

Until she saw Christina, perched as gracefully on her mare as always, giggling into her hand.

Nina flushed. Tears stung in her eyes.

But then Dante offered her a hand up.

"Nevermind Princess. We can't all be good at everything," he said, smiling.

Nina swatted his hand away. "You don't understand anything," she said, and staggering to her feet took back hold of the reigns.

"It's funny," said Antonio wryly, one of the more senior members of the kingsguard, riding beside Dante as they picked their way through the fields. "I can never tell them apart, till they get on a horse."

Even as they watched, Nina's horse flicked its high proud head, and made off at a gallop, Nina clinging on for dear life. Olympias, perched like a mountain on her horse was shouting, and Dante was about to kick his spur in when Christina sprinted past and helped reign Nina's horse back under control.

"Why doesn't she just ride with her nurse?" Daniel said.

Antonio shrugged. "She always insists. Even though it's like this every time."

When they caught up with the princesses, Christina was trying to instruct her sister.

"And if you sit more like this-"

Dante watched. Nina was straining with concentration, following every single flick of her sister's movements with her eyes. Her mouth was set with a frown of grim determination.

Dante couldn't help but wonder what they would be like when they grew up. In his experience, no siblings could remain so close forever, could they?

In the end, Nina gave up and rode with Christina, sitting sullenly with her hands round her waist, face buried in the small of her back.

*

Fields gave way to forest as the White Palace sunk like a sail under the horizon. Light spilled through the massive trees of the Cedarwoods, twinkling in the canopy, a star-studded cradle overhead.

Nina had never been so far from the palace. All her life the world had been made up of fields of golden waving wheat; the only sea she'd ever seen was the wind rustling through the eaves of corn. Now the ground became rugged, as Mt. Glaus loomed over the horizon, ugly as a cyst.

One of Olympias' common threats rung in her ears; Mt. Glaus, where they'll send you if you ruin another of your bloody dresses one more time!

She pressed herself closer to her sister's back. Christina smelled like clean linen and dandelions.

The temple was set at the base of the mountain, hunched like an old woman steadying herself against a wall. Nina sniffed. There was a strange smell in the air, kind of like the palace plumbing when you first turned on the hot water.

When they reached the temple, Christina swung herself off. Nina swallowed her pride and let Christina help her down. The rest of the escort dismounted, and one of the members of the kingsguard stayed to tether and watch the horses.

A figure approached, born from the shadows of the temple. Before Nina saw her, she heard her; the dozens of tiny tinkling bells sewn into the hem of her gown. A sibylla in her long sibyllae green robes, face shrouded under her hood.

"Please, follow me," she said. From the slice of face Nina could see, she wasn't much older than her. She turned and headed inside.

"Do you think her parents sold her?" Nina whispered. Christina, biting down nervously on her bottom lip, just shook her head.

The entourage entered the temple, a clean space of light granite, light filtering in through the high slits in the walls. Two other sibyllae, sweeping and talking quietly together, ceased as the convey entered. On the alter were offerings of fruit and rice cakes. There were no emblems or talismans. This god, one of many in Auria , had as of yet no name or symbol.

At the back of the temple steps descended downward. Here their guide stopped them. "Only those the Oracle has called may enter the inner temple," she said. The guards looked at one another. "You may wait here."

"I'm the King's sister," Olympias blistered. "I'm-"

"Only those the Oracle has called may enter," the girl said. There was no expression in her voice.

Christina reached out and took her sister's hand. "We'll be fine, Olympias," she said.

They wouldn't be alone. After all, they were never alone.

The two girls descended alone into the darkness. The stairway cut down directly into the volcano. It was not dark and cold, but dry and hot, tanzanite veins running through the rock, the torches burning low. Nina thought she saw, out of the corner of her eye, strange markings flittering under the rock like bruises.

After an eternity, the stairway levelled out. The dark tunnel opened out into a stomach; a wide, high natural dome that opened at the top to show a slice of blue sky. In the centre there was a great rend in the earth, which steam curled out of in ghastly wreaths.

Around the rend was a circle of sibyllae, their hands touching. At no visible cue, they began to sing. It startled Nina; they were singing in old Aurian, the tongue of the First People of Wynd. But this was no old chanting, no dull droning as the priests did at the solstice. It was as though these women and girls were possessed. The chanting ripped up through them and out of their mouths, until they were overcome by the power of their song, till it was too much for them, slipping out of the chain to collapse onto their knees. There was no accompanying music, no instruments. But the sound of those girls screaming, echoing wall against wall, back again, left shivering running down Nina's spine. She gripped her sister's hand tighter.

The last remnants of the song died away. Out of the circle, an old crone approached them, still dignified despite her hunchback, her deathly white skin from a life in the dark.

"Excuse me, but are you the Oracle?" Christina asked. The old woman laughed. A strange hoarse voice.

"I'm just a sibylla child," she said. "The Oracle is no mortal. Yet she stands before you." And she extended her hand to the great rift. "When mortals speak with the Oracle, they are shown visions, revealing who they are meant to be. Some are even shown their destiny."

The girls were bolt-upright. Their destiny!

"Will we find out who we are to marry?" Nina asked with excitement.

The old woman laughed. "You may find out more than that, child." And then she looked bemused. "The Oracle called for one young woman. Yet there are there are two of you."

"We are one person," said Nina. "We have always been together. Christina's destiny is mine, too."

"Then you both received the visitation?"

Nina was silent. Christina said, "It was just me."

"Having the same face does not amount to much. You are still separate people. You have your own fates ahead of you. The Oracle only called one of you here."

Nina was about to protest, but here Christina gripped her hand tighter. She said, "I only want my destiny if Nina is in it! Who is this oracle to tell us we are to be apart?" Nina's heart was bursting with happiness. The sibylla's brow creased.

"Very well. As you wish," she said unhappily. "You will both speak to the oracle. But child," she addressed Nina, "do not expect to see anything. The Oracle speaks to the few whom it chooses. "

Nina looked at the rift. She was beginning to feel a slight trepidation. But she wanted to know her future, didn't she?

The sibylla took her arm and led her towards the pit. For such an old woman, her grip was strong. Christina was led away towards the catacombs at the back of the chamber.

"Christina!" she said. She turned back to the sibylla furiously. "Where are you taking her?"

"Such a temper! No one but a sibylla can witness a mortal's audience with the oracle. Likewise, you must never speak of what you witnessed here."

It was rare for the two sisters to be apart from one another, even out of sight. Nina bit her lip, angry and upset.

The sibylla pushed her towards the pit. "Go on then. Look."

Was this all there was to it? Nina shuffled towards the edge, and looked down. At once she caught a lungful of the harsh sulfurous vapours. It stung her throat and chest and she pulled back, coughing. The old woman had hold of her head. She pushed her back over. Said, "Look."

All she saw was smoke. And under that, black. Under that, nothing.

"Look at what?" she exclaimed, coughing furiously. "There's nothing there."

"Look into the nothing. Reach for it," said the sibylla. She was beginning to understand why the sibylla all spoke with such strange, hoarse voices. Why did Nina ask for this? With the old woman's hard grip on the back of her head, she had no choice but to do as she was told and look. As she did, she heard the tinkling of bells as the other sibyllae spread around her, joining their hands once again. One by one they begun to keen, chanting in their warbling, screeching voices.

Nina was beginning to feel woozy. All the vapours were clouding her head, the noise from the sibyllae overwhelming. She begun to see things moving in the smoke. Wraiths joining together, hands reaching out for her-

"No!" Nina exclaimed. She scrunched up her eyes and tried to tear out of the sibylla's grip.

"Look," said the sibylla. "Look!"

She opened her eyes fearfully. The world was becoming distorted. The keening voices went on and on, without breath. The bells on their skirts echoed in her brain. And the nothingness- it was coming for her!

The ground was ripped out from beneath her feet, and headfirst she tumbled into the abyss. She flapped her wings, but they didn't work! And the most terrifying thing- she saw that however long she fell, she would never reach the bottom. There was no bottom. There was only nothingness. For her, there would only ever be nothingness. And she screamed and fell and screamed again-

She kept screaming, even when she saw she was lying on the earth. The chanting had stopped- the sibyllae were staring at her. The old woman took a step back. She kept screaming. The nothingness was in her head. It wouldn't get out!

"Nina!" Christina broke free from the sibyllae restraining her and ran towards her sister. Nina fell into her sister's arms, her scream turning to mere whimpers, clutching hold of Christina's pinafore.

"What did you do to her?" Christina was demanding. But Nina couldn't concentrate. The nightmare was beginning to fade away, but not the terror that came with it. Because this was different from any childish nightmare she'd had before.

This was real.

The nothingness hadn't completely gone. Now, in her sister's arms she was safe. But the nothingness was still there, curled tightly like a wyrm, waiting for his chance, any moment of weakness inside her.

"I saw- I saw-" she stuttered, through chattering teeth.

"The Oracle spoke to you. You must not relay its words. It is forbidden," the old woman said sharply.

Nina said nothing. She clung to her sister, tighter. She wouldn't let her go- no, not ever!

"May I speak with the Oracle?"

Nina looked up sharply. "N-no! Christina, you mustn't!" she pleaded.

But Christina's face was the same as those nights. When she'd sat bolt upright, and said, "Someone is calling to me." Her eyes were glazed. It looked as though she was seeing past her, into another world.

"Of course," the old sibylla said. "It was to you the Oracle called."

"Christina! No! You can't..." But she was prised away from her sister. She couldn't fight back. All her energy had gone out of her.

And yet, Christina's face was contented. As she was pulled away, she saw her smile. "Don't worry about me, Nina," she said. That glazed look - that wasn't her sister. Where was she? What had they done with her?

Two young sibyllae took her to a room and gave her a drink. But she couldn't hold it; it slipped and smashed on the ground. The two girls stood back, whispering to one another, looking wary.

She seemed to wait forever. Why was it taking so long? Was that nothingness capturing Christina, too?

But when Christina was led back to her, she was aglow. The sibyllae flocked around her, trying to touch her. She approached Nina, and her face was serene, her pale eyelids heavy. A sheen was on her brow. She reached out and took hold of Nina's arms, her voice breathless.

"I called to God," she said. "And She spoke to me. She spoke to me."

*

Twelve years later.

"Hey, have I seen you somewhere before?"

The groan of sheets. The slap of skin on stone as she slid barefoot out of bed, pushing her damp hair up behind her.

"I doubt it," she said.

"No, I'm sure I've seen you before. Turn around a minute."

She turned. A woman of twenty and two, a trickle of hair falling between her breasts, tuft golden down between her thighs. Her white wings were like an angel's. Nina looked down on the sailor with dulled eyes and the dream of an old smile playing on her lips.

"Have you been to the Moon Under the Water?" she asked.

"Of course," said the sailor. He had hair black as a squid's ink and a handsome face. Lounged back on the bed, he dragged on the reed. "The wine there's great, and it's cheap, too."

"I used to dance there," she said. She slipped, one knee first, onto the bed, and took the reed from his mouth. She breathed in, and exhaled a ring of smoke, which vanished into the air. "That's where you know me from."

Placing the reed back in his hand, she shrugged on her chiton and wrapped it round her waist. The sailor laid back, watching her with a lazy contented smile.

"So that's it. You know Bianca then?"

"Yes."

"And Kynna?"

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

He laughed to himself. In the mirror, Nina wiped away the black eyepaint that had smudged. She moved to the beaded threshold.

"You going already?" he asked with disappointment.

"Afraid so."

He laid the dregs of the smoking reed down in the basket. "Will I see you again?" he asked.

She paused at the threshold. Smiled. "No," she said.

Nina made her way through the bazaar of the Old Quarter, under the bright silk canopies and through the stacked baskets of fresh pomegranates and aubergines. As she drifted past the smoking house, the scent of shisha wafted out.

"Penny for an orphan? penny for an orphan, lady?" a little beggar boy asked, tugging at her skirts. He'd covered his skin in vinegar to make it look like it was hideously disfigured and covered in boils. Silently, she pressed a coin into his hand anyway.

Out of the bazaar, she climbed the white marble steps up to the back entrance of the palace. At the gate there, a solider stood in her way.

"What do you want, woman? This is no place for you."

"I've been hired by the King. A woman named Zilpah said she would meet me here."

"Hired for what, woman? I think you're a liar. I think you're here for a free meal." The man stood, rather obstinately, in her way. Nina's brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Listen, I can't really tell you. It's meant to be secret," she said.

The solider looked at Nina like she was a insect he'd like to crush under his foot.

She moved a little closer to him. He raised his eyebrows. "But, you look like a trustworthy man. I'm actually a courtesan, hired for his Majesty's pleasure. My mother was Bianca the Beauty, courtesan to King Edmure of Ludia. She trained me in the seven sacred carnal arts. One of the staff said she would meet at the back entrance to escort me in."

By now the soldier's eyebrows were up in his hair. At that moment, Zilpah, her handmaid, opened the door.

"This is the woman I was waiting for," Nina said patiently.

"I- you know her?" the soldier spluttered. Zilpah nodded.

"Excuse me," said Nina, rearranging her shawl. Flabbergasted, the man backed up against the wall to let Nina through. She pulled up the door behind her, and burst out laughing.

"Princess..." Zilpah's mouth was set in a very fine, quivering line. She looked like she was about to cry. "Princess, I waited for you for hours. This new man showed up, and I couldn't get him to leave. You said you would be back by noon."

Zilpah was younger than her by several years, a girl of burnished copper skin from the nomadic hill tribes. From the last few months she'd been Nina's handmaid. She'd tried not to get too attached to her- because invariably, as soon as she did there would be a different haidmaid waiting for her, and she'd never hear from the old one again.

Nina touched her on the arm. "I'm sorry, Zilpah. Something came up. I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's not me you should worry about. Aren't you worried the King will find out you've been leaving the palace?" she whispered.

Nina shrugged. "Not really."

"But wouldn't he punish you?"

"Oh, yes."

Zilpah was staring at her like a stranger.

"Princess, sometimes I don't understand you at all," she said, shaking her head.

"That's fine," was all Nina said. "Now come. I want to go to the crypt."

"Again?" Zilpah said weakly.

Nina said, "I won't leave her."

*

A series of wind driven turbines brought the water upwards to feed the hanging gardens, a botanical miracle for access only to the royal family and their noble guests.

In the centre of the gardens, there was the crypt.

Nina and Zilpah gathered handfuls of orchids from the garden, a peacock strutting past them with his amazing tail of feathers. In the gazebo made from latticed marble white stone, she could hear her cousin Drypetis giggling with her bastard half-sister, Kleopatra. She ignored them; they her.

Silently, Zilpah lagging behind, they descended into the crypt. The bright sunlight faded away, replaced by cold stone. They went deeper, their footsteps loud in the darkness.

At the bottom of the crypt, statues of her haughty ancestors stood tall, staring at her with eyes blinded by moss. She passed by them all.

There, at the back of the crypt on a raised stone slab surrounded by a hundred burning candles, lay her sister.

Nina and Zilpah laid the flowers at the foot of the alter, to join the dozens of other bouquets placed by her family, the many sympathetic visitors, her multitude of followers.

"Sister," she said, words like pebbles down a deep well.

The enchantment that had been put on her meant that Princess Christina only looked like she was sleeping. Almost six moons since she'd been laid in the crypt and it didn't look a day. They'd laid her out in her best tunic. Her hair, brushed out, sparkled like spun gold. She wore her crown, a thin band of silver. The candlelight moved over her face, and gave the semblance of life that wasn't there.

Even though it'd been months, some part of Nina always felt surprised to see her lying there. She wanted to shake her back to life, ask her why she was lying there, tell her to get up. She thought, in the back of her mind, that Zilpah must wonder why she always wanted to visit the crypt. Because every time she did Nina would just stand and stare at her sister's face, as though she couldn't tear her eyes away from it.

"If she was one of my people, they would have buried her in a field of flowers. Not here," Zilpah said.

Nina tore her eyes away from her sister's body, surprised to hear Zilpah break her silence. Her handmaid was shaking slightly. Perhaps from the cold. Perhaps not.

"She wouldn't have wanted it that way. Hers was a cold, dark god. He didn't have anything to do with with fields of flowers," Nina said.

Zilpah shook her head, to show what she thought of Christina's cold dark god.

"It's unnatural," she said, "that she should lie like this, when her soul's long gone."

"Don't worry. The spell will keep her body fresh so long as the embalmer restores it. She won't rot." As she spoke, she stepped up over the flowers, and sat by Christina's side on the alter. She pressed a hand against her sister's cheek. It was warm.

"I don't mean that." Zilpah shook her head with determination. She took a step towards the alter. "Princess, how can you begin to finishing mourning her when they won't lay her to rest?"

"Is that why you think we come here everyday? So I can mourn my sister?"

"Princess?" Confusion in her voice.

"Oh, that's funny. Zilpah, I didn't know you were so funny." And she laughed, a frightening laugh that resounded too loudly in the walls of the tomb.

Zilpah said nothing. She looked scared.

Nina's laugh died. Her face was pale. "Shall I tell you the truth?" she said, her voice small. "I come here because I want to mourn Christina. I want to feel sad. Even if I felt miserable, at least I'd feel something. But I don't feel anything. Anything at all."

*

For a miracle to happen, someone has to be equally cursed. That's what Nina believed.

But then, what was the point of it all? What good did it do? Everything that had happened between them had been erased in a single instant.

Why did you die, Christina? And what am I supposed to do now?

She felt like she was watching her life from underwater. Everything was blurred, silent, indistinct. She caught only the remnants of light skipping across the surface. She didn't know what she was doing or where she was going. Days passed in drips and drops or swum by in the blink of an eye.

Her mother slapped her, hard.

She was stood in Queen Rosetta's chambers of silver brocade and silk curtains. She raised her hand, to touch her burning cheek.

"Just what is wrong with you?" her mother said.

You tell me, she thought.

"I warned you expressly. I told you you were forbidden to leave the palace and you still- Nina, are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening."

"You don't look like it." Rosetta fell quiet. Her hair was as white as a dove, several lines prominent on her forehead, though she wasn't a day over forty. There were no laugh lines around her mouth- for the last few years, she'd had little reason to laugh.

"You aren't still seeing that soldier, are you?" she said quietly.

"Dante left Auria a year ago, Mother. If you remember, there was a warrant out for his execution." There was no sarcasm in Nina's voice; the words fell simply like snow.

"Exactly as there should have been," her mother said. Getting the feeling a lecture was coming on, Nina parted the coloured silk curtains with her hand and drifted out onto the balcony. She leaned over on the railing, looking out at the golden landscape set alight by the slanting yellow light of sunset.

"What did you ask me here for?" she said.

"I can't even invite my own daughter to my rooms without being questioned?"

The truth laid in the silence that slipped between them like sand.

"I don't want to argue with you," her mother said. She approached by Nina's side. "I have news for you, from your father."

"News he couldn't tell me himself?"

"You know your father's thoughts are occupied right now. He has a lot on his mind."

"I know. Mainly what's between Eurydyke's thighs."

Her mother hit her, again.

"Why do you do this? Do you enjoy hurting people?" she asked.

"I don't like her anymore than you do," Nina said. In fact, she couldn't stand the woman. For the last few years, Eurydyke and her bastards had strode about the palace like they owned it, taking her mother's handmaids, her chambers, most of all: her dignity.

Rosetta spoke very quickly, as though she was tearing off a bandage: "You're getting married."

"I'm what?"

"You heard me. It's your father's decision. The suitors have already been invited. There's going to be a tournament."

Nina turned to look at her mother. Rosetta couldn't meet her eyes.

"And what did you say to him?" she asked.

"What could I say?"

Nina looked out at the city. "I see," she said.

"Well?" said her mother.

"Well what?"

"I thought you'd say something. I told your father you'd be angry."

"What do I think? I think father would never have arranged something like this for Christina."

Her mother flinched at the sound of her other daughter's name. Heatedly she said, "I wish you wouldn't always compare yourself to your sister. It's-"

"True though, isn't it?"

"Your father has to do something. The morale of the city is at an all time low since, since..." her voice trailed off, and strengthened. "You're out of control, Nina. You don't listen to anyone. You do what you want. You shamed not just yourself but your whole family with what you did with that soldier. If you were a lowborn girl, you'd have been given to the sibyllan sisters long ago. Now the only thing that could improve your reputation is a reputable marriage to a respectable nobleman."

The light was fading now, the golden glow dimming to a simmer upon the horizon.

"Nina, are you even listening to me?"

To be continued.

Chapter Text

Lights danced like fireflies on the cliffside. A full moon perched, a fat coin on the horizon, the night sky dusted with a sprinkling of stars.

On the top of the foothills, a great bonfire was burning, bright enough to be seen for leagues around, casting the revellers in flickering shades of red. A great drum kept the beat: boom-boom-boooom, it sounded.

Every single member of Ryu's tribe had gathered here this night, to celebrate the most important event in a clansman or clanswoman's life: their Ladonia.

The Answerer to the Call, Anissa, sat on a woven mat surrounded by her kin as they fawned over her, feeding her sweetcake and olives. She was Sarah's sister, a thin spritely girl of ten and four, with Sarah's same mop of turquoise hair, which, as Ryu watched, Sarah was braiding into intricate rows. Anissa wore necklaces of strung beads and shining stones that hung low over her bare chest. Her eyes were closed, as her brother painted her face with the dye made from the sacred tree sap.

Ryu sat with several of his cousins, the heat of the bonfire blazing on his face and arms. They talked and laughed and tore of chunks of floury flatbread and shared them round, and Ryu took a piece and chewed on it, gazing up at the flames. They'd long given up on asking him questions. Thankfully, his return was overshadowed by the ceremony: this was Anissa's day, and Ryu was grateful.

"Dag, stay back from the fire! You'll hurt yourself," Wylla, his round-faced cousin called.

"No! Dag no get hurt! Dag dragon!" shouted the little boy. He poked his stick into the fire; it spat out flames at him and he yelled. There was a ruckus, and Wylla scooped up the burnt, balling child. His other cousins fussed at him.

"You silly boy!" Wylla chided him. "What have I told you? Without Ladon's blessing..."

Ryu, who'd had enough of the boy's wailing, walked away and left them to it. With the fuss, they didn't notice him leaving.

The revellers tried to pull him over to join him before the fire, their faces and chests painted, giving themselves up in ecstasy to the god. Sevvy was with them, swinging his latest girlfriend around wildly. Ryu escaped away.

Through the flames, he could see Brynhildr with several elders, and Locke. She sat cross-legged on a mat, meditating. As the chief, she was preparing for her own part in the ceremony, one she'd performed at every Ladonia since the demise of her husband some sixteen years past.

All dragon clansmen had sensitive, animalistic senses. After his time in the wilderness, Ryu's were razor sharp. Although it was spoken in a murmur, the whisper caught round Ryu and hooked him like a lure.

"Look. Ryu's back."

"Rick said she was. Where do you think she's been all this time?"

"Wylla reckons the poor whelpling's still heartbroken."

"Well, shunning everybody in the village isn't going to help."

Ryu walked on, the the voices still chased him.

"What Locke did wasn't right, but you have to admit it turned out for the best. His and Sarah's daughters are just precious. Meriaten is just starting to toddle now; it's adorable."

"The way she dresses and acts is her business, but..."

"Yes, I know what you mean. Actually taking a woman was going too far."

Ryu had had enough. His blood pounding in his ears, he stormed away toward the mountain path. He never should have come.

It was easy, objectively, to judge, when they didn't understand the first thing about him.

Why's she wearing that southern tunic? Another whisper floated out. She's our princess, not a barbarian.

Well now, replied another voice, rather cattily, she couldn't wear a loincloth, after all.

The way they spoke of him, it was as though they owned him. Ryu couldn't stand it.

And the fact that every single one of them knew of his humiliation, his whole history, didn't help either.

He stormed down onto the path.

"Ryu? You're not leaving, are you?"

He turned. It was Anissa, her hair braided, intricate swirls and patterns covering her face, arms, chest and from out under her belted, jewelled loincloth, even her legs.

"Anissa," he said, measuredly, "congratulations. But I have to go."

She clasped hold of his hand. "Every clansmember is required to attend a Ladonia," she said.

How could he explain that he didn't feel as though he were a clansmember? That he wasn't a part of these people?

"I heard them talking about you," she said. She shook her head in disgust, the bells in her hair clashing. "They're idiots, Ryu. Ignore them and come sit with my family."

The look he gave her told her in no little words he'd rather put his head in a pot of vinegar than sit with Sarah and her kin.

"Oh, right," she said, laughing embarrassedly. When he tried to make off again, she clutched his hand tighter.

"Please, Ryu. This is my Ladonia. It's important to me."

"I know Anissa. But you don't understand." By the fire, Locke sat down next to Sarah and put his arm around her. Baby Meriaten toddled towards them, and fell into Locke's lap. He whisked her up above his head, as though she was flying.

Anissa was following the line of his eyes. "I do," she said.

"How could you? You're a child."

The bells in her hair clashed. She gazed at him fiercely. "As of today, I'm a woman." It was strange: he could see so much of her sister in her like this, the girl she used to be.

"Yes," he said, distantly. "You are."

She nodded. "I know what love is. I have a mate: Tommen."

"Tommen?" he remembered the boy. He was a good one, though he'd been a child when he last saw him.

"As soon as he receives his call, we're going to be married."

"As soon as that?" Ryu asked, surprised.

Her eyes flashed. "I won't let anyone have him. He's mine. I decided that, when I saw what happened to you."

Ryu was silent.

"You know what I would do, if one of my sisters stole Tommen away from me? I'd kill her, kin or no. And him as well, for betraying me. "

Ryu shook his head. "It's a great crime, to kill one's kin."

"I don't care!" Her hands were balled into fists. "Kin who steal away something precious from you are no kin at all."

Concerned, Ryu reached out. He put his hand on Anissa's patterned shoulder. "Your sisters would never do that to you, Anissa. Locke... he did that because he thought he was taking nothing from me. Because I..." his words trickled away like a drying brook. "He was wrong. Very wrong," he said simply.

Anissa put her hand over his. "I've spoken to my father about Tommen, but he thinks we're too young to marry..." Yes, Ryu imagined Frode would. He considered the old man's troubles: one rebellious daughter, and now another. Almost enough to feel sorry for him- though not quite. "But Ryu," her eyes lit up, "you could give us your blessing to marry."

"I'm not sure Frode would forgive me."

"He doesn't, anyway," Anissa said. A fair point.

"Alright," Ryu said. "I'd be happy to give you my blessing. But wait until Tommen comes of age, first. I won't bless children. "

Anissa clasped her hands together. "Oh thank you, Ryu!" On the tips of her toes, she planted a huge kiss on his cheek, and spun away. "I need to get ready now, but thank you! I won't forget it."

Ryu felt his cheek where Anissa's lips had touched it: an alien feeling.

It occured to him that perhaps Anissa hadn't been concerned at all about Tommen and her sisters. Her words had been purely to comfort him.

An alien feeling, indeed.

*

As he moved back into the celebrations, a circle of old men hailed him over. "Ryu! Young man!" Lebanon called. "Come join us."

"We need some young blood to keep us warm," said Elder Byrion, chuckling.

"Tch! You make us sound like vampires," said Elder Gungir. He patted the space beside him, and Ryu sat. "We were just reminiscing our own Days, as ancient as that probably sounds to a youngster like you, Ryu."

Ryu smiled, tightly.

"I remember my Call like it was just yesterday," mumbled Bifrost, the most ancient of the lot. "Ladon appeared to me in the guise of a blood-soaked warrior. The dream was so vivid, I thought it was real... he knew about the battle, although it wouldn't happen for thirty score years. He took me to the top of the mountain and became an eagle..."

The Call was different for every clansman. But these things were the same: it happened anywhere between the ages of eight and sixteen, during a dream that seemed more real than real life. In in that dream, Ladon would appear to them, and offer to reveal the secrets that lurked within their bloodline: the power of wyvern.

Ryu had been sixteen when the dream had come to him. One of the latest in his generation to receive it, he had worried that the Call would never come.

When it had, it had been nothing like he had expected.

*

Footfalls on stone slab floors. Ryu was walking through the corridors of the Citadel, a small child again. Someone was holding his hand. He looked up, and saw his father's familiar beard, his bushy eyebrows. They walked some way together in quiet comfort, before Ryu recalled- "Father, what are you doing here? You're dead."

The King didn't look down at him. He continued walking, eyes ahead of him.

"You are correct, Ryu," he said. "I am not the man who gave you life. However I am still your father, and the father of all others call the Brood."

The fact that Ryu was speaking was to the father of all dragons, Ladon, should have come as a shock to him, yet, at the time, there seemed nothing more natural.

The citadel around them faded, and Ryu found himself sat in a starlit forest. Water inside the hollow of a tree stump reflected a crescent moon. One of the groves sacred to Ladon.

Still in his father's guise, Ladon sat opposite Ryu on a felled tree, sweeping his robes up behind him.

"I'm here, Ryu, because I sense in you a great need for power." Ryu nodded. "Why?" asked the dragon god.

"To protect myself. To prove myself," said Ryu.

"To whom?"

"To everybody."

Ladon was leant forward, thoughtful hands pressed together, touching his forehead.

"Your heart is filled with anger and confusion," he said.

The question he had been dying to ask the god since he was a small boy burst from his lips, unfettered. "Ladon, please tell me. Why am I like this?" He gestured to himself, with a motion of disgust. "It's all wrong. Did I do something to deserve it? Did I sin in a past life, or...?"

Ladon shook his head. "The stuff of souls is not my domain, Ryu. I only guide them. But, I see before me a body that is healthy. Is that not enough?"

"It's not mine," said Ryu.

Ladon was quite a long time, his eyes closed in concentration. "You wish for the power of the wyvern?" he said at last.

"Yes."

"I don't know if you're ready." Ryu stared. "Your heart is lost in clouds of confusion and loneliness. Only a clear soul can hear the voice of the wyvern."

"But I am ready." Without meaning to, Ryu stood.

"This is so important to you?"

"If I can't control the wyvern, it'll be just one more thing that's wrong with me," he said. "Lord Ladon, please. You have to."

Ryu shocked himself with his audacity. He stepped back. But Ladon didn't get angry, as he feared. Instead, he said, "Very well, Ryu." His eyes opened, and they were not his father's eyes. They were luminous, bright yellow. "The full moon," he said. "You will have the power of which you seek."

On the water of the tree stump, the reflection, the crescent moon became half, three quarters, became a brilliant orb, shining on the still surface.

"I will meet you there," Ladon said.

He was right, thought Ryu, but I didn't listen.

*

"- and walked right across the flames, like he said I would. And even-" mumbled Bifrost, who was apparently still in the midst of his story.

"Alright, Bifrost, you've told us a dozen times before," Gungir said, putting his hand on the man's back. He smiled wryly at Ryu. "Sorry son, us old timers invited you over and haven't let you say a word. Why don't you tell the story of your Ladonia?"

A sharp, pointed silence.

Lebanon coughed. Gungir's eyes widened as the memory came back to him. It wasn't, after all, an easy one to forget.

"Sorry, Ryu," said Gungir, with embarrassment. "I imagine you wouldn't want to tell that one." He reached a hand towards Ryu, perhaps to comfort him, but at the last minute changed his mind. He let it drop.

"It's fine," said Ryu, tightly.

All attention was drawn from him when the fire, burning brightly, flashed a golden green.

"It's time," said Lebanon.

Brynhildr stood before the flames, her twin wands of ebony and ivory upholded above her head: one of the reasons in the south she was named the Northern Witch.

The flames flickered, again, transforming a deep emerald green.

"Lord Ladon!" Bryhildr cried, loud enough for the whole tribe to hear. "Lord Ladon, we hear you!"

Over two hundred voices joined together, rumbling the words, "Lord Ladon, we hear you!"

The flames responded, spewing out sparks into the sky. Brynhildr's wands clashed together.

"Lord Ladon, there is one before you seeking your strength and protection," Brynhildr called. "Her name is Anissa, daughter of Frode."

Stood in the crowd, Ryu joined in the cries. A tumult of voices, all calling, "Anissa! Anissa!"

From out of the mass of bodies, Anissa stepped forward. Her eyes were pitched forward. Her steps rung with determination. Brynhildr took hold of her hand, and guided her towards the fire.

"With this power," Brynhildr said, "do you promise to protect your kin, our clan, our way?"

"Yes," said Anissa.

"Do you swear to take Ladon, our lord, as your master, forsaking all other gods?"

"Yes."

"With this power, do you swear to destroy our enemies, all those that would harm us, or stand against us?"

"Yes."

"Then step through the fire," Brynhildr said.

A silence fell over the crowd like ash. Every single clansman was lifting a prayer in their heart, that Anissa's soul would be clear enough, her promises would ring true, and Ladon would allow Anissa to walk through his flames unscathed.

Ryu heard his mother whisper to the girl, "Don't let your concentration waver. Step forward, and do not falter."

Ladon, protect her, Ryu prayed, holding the talisman round his neck tight in his hand.

Anissa stepped forward. If there was fear in her heart, she did not show it. Her head was held high.

As she came closer to the fire, Ryu could feel it in his own memories; the crippling heat, the catch in your breath as it stole the air from your lungs. His own heart had been trembling, though he'd willed it to be still: tried to cast away the thoughts of the peers he himself had seen burnt into nothing.

He clutched the talisman, tighter, as Anissa vanished into the flames.

-And an almighty roar shook the ground.

The wind howled, the flames trembled. Out of them, parting the fire like a knife through butter, came a clawed foot.

The dragon that emerged from the flames was easily ten foot, sea green scales murmuring in the reflection of the fire. The ground moved as it stepped forward on powerful muscled legs, stretched its ribbed wings. Smoke spilled from its nostrils: the dragon raised her face to the sky, and let loose a cloud of fire.

The faces all around Ryu were a sea of relief.

Ryu had clutched his talisman so tight the shape had embedded itself his palm. He let go now, breathing again.

"Anissa," said Brynhildr. She stood, insignificant before the dragon. It turned, earth trembling, to face her, and knelt down onto its haunches.

Brynhildr approached, and put her hand onto the dragon's forehead, beneath a trail of jagged horns.

"I will seal your power away. Learn to control it, and destroy our enemies."

"Destroy our enemies," rumbled the crowd.

With a finger, Byrnhildr drew the four glowing lines of Ladon. At that, the dragon began to glow, as though it was absorbing all light into itself. The light burst, into hundreds of shooting stars.

On the ground, naked as the day she was born, her hair singed away, Anissa laid curled into a ball. She was sleeping peacefully as a child.

The revelry would go on until the early hours of the morning. Some years past, the celebrations did not stop till the edges of the horizon turned blue, stars fading out of the sky.

The fire burned bright: they danced: wine, red and thick, ran free. Anissa, newly decked in tumbling trails of jewels span round in Tommen's arms: she shined.

Ryu sat back, cup squeezed between his thighs, watching it all distantly.

He might have gained Ladon's power, but he had never learnt to control it.

He had walked through the fire unscathed. Felt the flames, instead of burning him up, feeding into him. Making him fearless, powerful, invincible. They quenched the fear in his heart, hardening it into a invulnerable diamond.

Until he realised: he had no control over his actions.

He wrought destruction. Smashed the fire, injured five people. Four clansmen had to transform just to subdue him long enough for Bynhildr to seal him with her spell. He'd been no dragon; just a dangerous monster.

And even now, he had no more control over himself than he did when he was sixteen. The wyvern came upon him only when he was angry or upset, and left behind only devastation.

Another black mark against him.

"It's uncommon, but not unheard of," Brynhildr told him, all those years ago. "Some have always had trouble mastering their true forms. It'll come, with patience and training."

"And then what?" Ryu had said bitterly. "Let me guess. Although it's late coming, it'll be stronger than anybody else's?"

"No." Brynhildr raised her children as she'd governed her tribe: with blunt compassion. "Ryu, the reason you can't control your dragon is due to a weakness in your soul. But you'll overcome it. That's what weaknesses are for: to be overcome."

And yet, despite those harsh months of training in the wastes, he'd made no progress.

"And you must learn to overcome it," Brynhildr had said. "Otherwise, it might not be Rick or Rungnir, who can defend themselves that you hurt next time. If you can't control your anger, my love, you're going to kill someone you care about one day."

She'd been right, of course.

That's what truly scared Ryu. His mind replayed the moment he caught Sarah and Locke together in the woods, over and over. That terrible betrayal. Sarah's Call came too early for her: her wyvern had always been weak. If Locke hadn't been there to stand in his way, he knew there would be no ifs or buts about it: he would have killed her.

His cup trembled in his hands: he couldn't seem to still them.

Better for him to stay away from this village, far enough away he could only hurt himself.

He needed to learn some self-control.

Chapter Text

"A toast, to our guests- the princes of Dracon!"

There were some cheers, but this late into the evening they soon trailed into affirmative sounding mumbles. The servant girl hurried to refill cups. The long table of Acorn Hall was crammed with used plates and goblets. Some of the guests had already retired elsewhere, others were nodding off, or exchanging drunken words. Their host, an aristocrat called Maron was determined, however, not to let the prince's go to bed.

Through the Wyndian province on their journey towards the capital, this was the sixth drinking party they'd attended.

Ryu sat, hunched over at the table, the room swimming in front of him.

"More wine, my prince?" the serving girl asked.

"Fill him up," he heard Sevvy answer for him. He was vaguely aware of his brother at his side, some Wyndian girl sat on his lap. He wasn't sure what he was doing to her, but it seemed to be working, if the giggles were anything to go by.

"That reminds me," Maron, lounged on his couch said- though no one could say what reminded him, "isn't there meant to be a third brother?"

"Our brother Locke's gone on ahead," Sevvy said. "He wanted to fly. We preferred to take the scenic route. And get the chance to experience the famous Maron's hosting, of course."

Maron laughed indulgently at this, but Ryu frowned into his cup.

Locke would have reached the capital days ago. In their dragon forms, they could traverse deserts and forests in a matter of hours. Of course, however, for Ryu this wasn't possible.

For reasons best known to himself, Sevvy decided to come with him.

For two weeks, they'd ridden south. Neither he or his younger brother had been before to Wyndia, a massive country, both fertile and rich, spanning from beneath the Cedarwoods and stretching all the way to the eastern ocean. Sevvy seemed to take it all in his stride, but frankly, Ryu found aspects of their culture baffling.

Servants, for one thing. He watched a pretty young thing with a wine pitcher shuffle past. He still couldn't grasp the concept. He understood they worked for gold, but why did they need it when he'd passed mile after mile of fruiting crops?

As he watched, the girl caught herself on a snag in the rug and almost fell, wine splashing over the top of the carrier.

"You clumsy girl! Idiot!" Manon berated her. "I didn't hire you just for your pretty tits. One more mistake, you're out."

"S-sorry sir," the girl stuttered, pink-faced and terrified. "I-it won't happen again."

Ryu frowned, deeply. Why did she take that from him? An insult like that asked for a punch in the face. But from the lack of response from the rest of the party, he inferred this behaviour was normal.

And the southerners called them barbarians.

"Hey Ryu! You in there?" Ryu started up. Sevvy was waving a hand in front of his face, grinning. Said, more to the room than Ryu: "You sleep like that during the tournament, it's going to be a cinch to win me a Wyndian bride!" There was laughter and catcalls, and the redhead in his lap poked him in the chest.

"What do you propose to do about Lord Arryn of the Cedarwoods?" she said. "He's a master archer, you know. I heard he can hit a moving target from over a league away."

"I'll use him to wipe my nose with! I've won the gold shield thrice in the games we hold for Ladon, and I'm the fastest man in my tribe," Sevvy boasted. "In Dracon, we train in the arts of war everyday. These soft southern princes will run back to their mothers crying when I'm done with them."

"You might have more competition than you think, Prince Sevvy," said Maron. "I've heard King Philip has invited the merpeople."

"Hah? What'll they do? Hit me with their tails?"

There was laughter. Drinks were refilled.

"What about you, Prince Ryu?" Maron asked. Ryu raised his head. "What are your chances? Do you too hope to win the hand of our princess?"

Before he could speak, Sevvy answered for him. "My brother's won tournaments in Dauna and Auria. He's better than anyone I know with a sword, and his javelin never misses its mark." Ryu looked at him wryly.

"You flatter me, brother," he said.

"Not true. You're one of our best athletes. A ragtag bunch of nobles don't have a chance up against you. You'd have a good chance of winning- providing you could best me, of course."

Ryu stared at his cup. He was here because because the Queen commanded it. And, for his own reasons as well. He hadn't actually thought of winning before. "Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "I'll enjoy competing again, and testing my abilities. But I'm not in the market for a bride. I'd have to meet her first."

For some reason, Maron's company seemed to find this hilarious. "Meet her first!" someone said, and one of Maron's friends laughed so hard he fell down, and didn't get up again. The attention was turned to him: it took several to heave up and out of the room.

"It's a rare thing in this day and age, to meet a real life gentleman."

Ryu looked up. In front of him stood a shapely woman with a mane of jet black hair. Her eyes sparkled.

"I'm no gentleman," he said.

"Then it's the bachelor's life you're after?" She slid into the seat beside him. "Can't say I blame you. Marriage is a bore. Believe me, I've been there. Stay unattached. A single man can have..." as she spoke, she slid her hand up his thigh, "much... more fun."

"Who are you?" Ryu said.

"My name's Jocasta. I already know who you are. I don't think there's anyone a hundred leagues away who doesn't know the dragon princes are in town."

Ryu watched as she moved her hand higher up his leg with an amused, distant smile. "Jocasta, are you a whore?"

"Something of that sort." She stood, and lifted a leg over him, so she was sat on his lap, straddling his hips. "But don't worry. I don't charge for men as handsome as you." She cupped his cheek with her hand.

"Not interested."

"Don't be silly," she said, planting soft slick kisses down his neck. The drink moved around in him, tempting him to lead Jocasta back up to his room "You have a beautiful neck," she murmured. "So long, like a swan's..."

But: "I'm sorry." He pulled away.

She looked disappointed.

"Don't bother yourself with him," Sevvy said. He was standing in the threshold, helping his tipsy giggling friend upstairs. "He got dumped."

"Oh!" She looked like she understood. She cupped her face between her hands. "Did she break your heart, sweet prince? Forget about her. She's not worth it." The words fell over him like a spell. "One night with me and you won't even remember her name."

Somehow, as though some magick had happened, the hall had cleared. Sevvy had vanished with his companion. The only person left was a man from Dauna, passed out with his head on the table.

She kissed him, with unbelievably soft lips. Tangled her fingers in his hair, sending tingles all down through his scalp. Suddenly, he kissed her back. More than passionately: furiously, like he would devour her whole.

"Oh! There's the dragon..." she murmured, rising up. Curled her fingers round handfuls of his hair, nails raking against his scalp. One hand reached down and started to unlace his breeches.

When as suddenly as it had come upon him, his passion ended. He put his hand over hers.

"No."

"No?" she asked, confused.

As gently as he could manage, he pushed her from him. Clutching the wall for support, he started to climb the stairs to his room.

"Sorry," he remembered to say.

*

The day was bright and warm, a refreshing wind stirring through the trees, leaves rustling like tin foil. Ryu and Sevvy made their way through the forest together on horseback.

"Today feels like it's going to be a great day. Don't you think? It's like you can smell it in the air," Sevvy said, a great smile plastered across his face as he grinned up at the sunlight. Ryu couldn't help but smile a little, too.

"I can tell you had a good time last night," he said.

"Roxanne was her name. Rox-anne. She's a gift to god. Goes to show you can't believe what they say about Wyndian girls."

"You know, if you didn't have such an innocent face, people might start to realise what a lech you really are Sevvy," said Ryu.

"Hah! They can think what they want. Life's about having a good time. Don't let anyone convince you anything different." He beamed: with that boyish smile Ryu had seen girls forgive him anything.

Ryu looked up at the light filtering through the tree, warm on his face. He envied Sevvy's attitude on life. Somehow, he'd never been able to laugh off his troubles as Sevvy did.

"Anyway," Sevvy said, "you've no need for that serious look on your face. Who was that scrumptious companion I saw with you?"

"One of Manon's hired girls."

"And? Did you...?" he trailed off suggestively.

Ryu rolled his eyes. "Ladon be good, maybe one day you'll grow up enough to stop thinking about sex for one second."

"That'll be a no, then?"

"No."

"By Ladon's name, why not? She was gorgeous!"

"I wasn't interested. And besides..."

Sevvy's eyes widened opened in understanding. "Oh! I don't think she'd have minded. She looked like the type who wouldn't. Whores are pretty open-minded on these things."

Even then, what would be the point? All she cared about was my name, my clan. Here, I'm just the same as at home: an interesting, fleeting, amusement. Like some new toy to be tossed away when the child gets bored.

A tunnel of trees stretched out down in front of them. Ryu spurred on his horse and galloped down. The wind rushed through his hair and Sevvy was by his side, laughing.

"You challenging me?" he said.

"What would be the point? You're far too slow," he said, with a grin. He kicked his horse into a sprint, and they were flying down the tunnel, wind whipping around them as they raced.

*

The Wind road was packed with travellers, tourists and revellers on their way to the Princess's Tournament. The King's proclamation had blown across the land. Now, they came: men with dreams of gold came to bet their stakes on the winner; the betting men to make a mint. Market hawkers with carts of goods and pots and pans strapped to their back and swindlers with their skin creams made from mouse droppings. Troupes of dancers and acrobats, stopping to stretch and practice their routines by the side of the road, their bright leotards flashing as they cartwheeled and cavorted. Cartfuls of pretty girls dabbing on eye makeup come to practice the oldest profession in the world; noble girls with dreams of snaring the heart of a lord. The cream of the cream, the bottom of the barrel, they all made their way to Wyndia for the Games.

And not just humans, either. From the west they came: the grassrunners, from the east the wild nomadic woren tribesmen. From the oceans came the merpeople's cousins, the manillo. In the forest a mischievous sound of flutes and picollo pipes preceded the passage of the fairy court, naked and revelling, flowers in their hair, transporting the young Prince Avalon to the tournament.

All made their way to the capital, and the castle: The White Palace, glowing like a mirage on the plains. A white ship, adrift on fields of gold, waves of wheat bobbing on the breakers.

Wyndia was incredible, Ryu thought.

In the city, silver banners flew high. The markets teemed. All the inns were full and a new city of tents sprung up outside the city walls.

At the gates, they queued for inspection, Ryu watching in interest as staffs, glaves and runic swords were handed over. The inspector took at close look at his blade before handing it back to him, taking even longer to stare at a pendant he'd dug from Ryu's backpack. "No magical weapons in the city," he told him. "All magical artefacts must be documented."

He had thought that Tunlun, a grassrunner town of several thousand edging Dracon's border was huge. How ignorant he was. The press was so great inside the city that he and Sevvy dismounted and led their horses by foot through the crush. His shoulders brushed others: people pushed past. The noise was enormous, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer number of voices that joined together, became a blur.

By his side, he saw Sevvy in no obvious discomfort, looking around himself in delight, eyes flashing.

Upon reaching the palace gates, the crowd thinned. In front of them, one of the Wyndian royal guard in their white tunics and greaves was speaking to a party.

"Lord Arryn, welcome to Wyndia. Please, come through. A servant will show you to the Water Gardens for refreshment."

The gate was rolled open and Lord Arryn and his men passed into the palace's grounds. Ryu and Sevvy approached the man.

"Are you here to compete in the tournament?" he said, eyeing Ryu's blue hair.

"We are," Sevvy said.

"Your invitation, please."

From his pouch, Ryu retrieved the rolled up letter and handed it to the man. The soldier checked the seal for authenticity and read through King Philip's letter. He put it back into Ryu's hand.

"Prince Ryu, Prince Sevothtarte, you are welcome. You can leave your horses with me. I'll call a lad to house them in our stables. Please follow Lord Arryn's party."

With a grumbling sound, the high gates rolled open.

"Cheers," said Sevvy. He strutted into the manicured gardens of the Palace. Ryu rolled his eyes and followed his brother, considering that they'd have to deflate Sevvy's head by the time the Games were through.

Their bags were taken from them, to be put in their rooms. A servant girl showed them through the palace up to the Water Gardens, where the other suitors would be waiting. The Palace was a maze of courtyards and cloisters, pillared chamber opening out into pillared chamber.

Up several flights of stairs, they entered a garden. For a moment, Ryu couldn't focus on anything; the assault of smells- jasmine, roses, lotus- was overpowering on his heightened senses. He felt Sevvy pause beside him, too.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," he heard his brother Locke say. Just as said, the feeling began to ebb. He saw Locke standing lazily with his back to a latticed gazebo with another man. He wished he didn't. Just looking at elder brother brought back that furious tightness in his chest.

"Hey Locke," Sevvy said. "You been here long?"

"A week. I know you were riding but you certainly took your time, didn't you? You're the last competitors to arrive."

"What's the point of visiting another country when you don't sightsee?" Sevvy asked.

Ryu resisted a comment. Mostly, they'd been sightseeing the inside of a wine bottle.

Then he focused on the man beside Locke. Though that wasn't a completely accurate description. His face was marked with paint, his pupils yellow slits. His straw-yellow hair ran almost to his waist. His tail, long and striped curled behind him. A weretiger. He felt Ryu's gaze and grinned at him, exposing several long incisors.

"You going to introduce your brothers to me, Locke?" he said.

Locke nodded boredly at them. "This is Ryu and Sevvy. Ryu, Sevvy, this is Raj Mensah Okeke."

"Good to meet ya," he said, still grinning widely. It wasn't entirely a nice smile.

"You're from one of the woren clans?" Ryu asked.

"The Jaka clan. My father's the chief," said Raj. His tail swept powerfully across the ground.

"You're here to win the princess, too?" Sevvy said, smiling back at him. Ryu recognised that smile; he was sizing up his rival.

"Course. The tribe elders want my brother as the next chief. But when I bring home the princess of Wyndia as my bride, that's gonna shake up their ideas, see? No way there's going to choose my brother over me then, right?" It was more of a statement than a question, and he went on: "Anyway, I reckon you dragon guys are going to be my real competition. Been talking to some of these other folks, and," he nodded his head back to the other parties in the garden, "buncha' saps, the lot of them. Some of 'em you'd think they still drunk their mother's milk."

"You'll have to duke it out with my brothers, I'm afraid," Locke said. Ryu glanced up at him; he was gazing up at the sky, arms folded. "Like I said, I already have a mate. I'm not interested in another bride." Ryu gritted his teeth, fingers clenched up so hard his nails dug into his palms.

"Have you seen Princess Nina yet?" he heard Sevvy ask.

"Nah," said Raj. "No one has. Gotta be a shy one, I reckon. But there's gonna be some shindig tonight now everyone's here. Mebbe they'll let us look at her then."

Eagerly Sevvy said, "I can't wait to see what she looks like."

"Rather like her sister, I'd imagine," Ryu pointed out. "They were twins, after all."

Sevvy demanded of Locke, "You met her once, right? When you went to Wyndia with Mother to talk about the alliance. What was she like?"

"I did. It was a long time ago though." Both Sevvy and Raj were paying very close attention now. Even Ryu glanced at his brother with reluctant curiosity.

"Bet she was a total babe," said Raja.

"She was eleven," said Locke.

"Oh."

He continued: "She was always chasing after her sister. Her nurse wanted us to be playmates, but I think she barely noticed I was there." He smiled wryly. "They made a big deal out of the visit, but Christina was more interesting to her than a dragon prince. I remember being annoyed at the time, but looking back on it, it was a good lesson for my ego."

"Was she shy?" said Sevvy.

"The opposite. I'm pretty sure she said whatever was on her mind. Unusual, for a Wyndian girl. Though she could be quiet too. A strange girl, I must admit." He looked out over the crowd in the garden, said: "A few moons ago, this was a city in mourning. I still can't figure it out... just what is King Philip thinking?"

There was something in that, Ryu thought. The garden was buzzing with energy. Princes and chiefs drank with dukes, talking and laughing together. The day was hot, bright and golden. The buzz of insect wings and the gentle sshing of water.

Yet somewhere here in Wyndia, their beloved princess was buried.

Christina, he thought.

*

"Lord Ryu, your bath has been prepared."

"Thanks," said Ryu, coming into the tiled bathroom. A huge stone bath filled the space, decorated with mosiac mermaids. The walls were plated with metal, polished till they reflected your own face back. One of the servant girls was finishing pouring the final jar of steaming water into the bath. The room smelled sweet. On the top of the water floated orangeblossom and petals of lotus.

"Would you like us to stay and wash you?" the other girl said.

"That's not necessary," said Ryu.

The two girls exchanged a glance with one another. "Are you sure?" one said. "I have warm olive oil to sooth your muscles."

"My muscles will be fine. I'd like to be alone."

A bit bemused, the girls left. Ryu stood alone by the bath, taking in a long breath. It really did smell wonderful, almost enough to make him forget how much he hated baths. Almost.

Ryu's reflection stared back at him from the plated wall. A serious face with angular cheekbones and a classical nose. His wild hair fell over his shoulders, dirty from the journey. Ryu knew who he was.

Most of the time, anyway. He looked at the man in the mirror. Watched, as the man unfastened his belt and scabbard, tossing them aside like a handful of dead leaves. His fingers; as they unlaced his boots. The slide of material as he pulls his tunic off his head. Standing in his undergarments, his fingers begin to tremble, fumbling the silver clasps of the dragon tear amulet around his neck. He breathes, deeply; the rise and fall of his chest, as though the removal of his clothes involve a kind of flying. Finally, he unwinds the the long strip of cloth binding his chest, slips out of his undergarments and stands, naked, not male, but not in his heart female; merely, Ryu.

*

Night, seeping up from the sky like ink into blotting paper.

In the hall, Ryu stood gazing out the window, drink in hand. Sevvy and Raj were either side of him, talking over him.

The hall was full. Through the crowd King Philip was sat at the high table. By his side was a handsome red haired woman, presumably Queen Rosetta. Around the room the competitors who'd come for the Games lounged on pillowed couches and were served food and wine. Others stood, and watched the dancing girls in their scraps of silk, a bright blur in the corner of Ryu's eye.

"Look at the body on that one!"

"Man I'd like to..."

Having found a common interest, Raj and Sevvy were quickly becoming friends. Ryu stared out the window, thinking.

Something hit him on the arm. "Hey. Ryu, wake up. You want to get some grub with me?" Ryu looked over at Sevvy and shook his head. "Suit yourself. Raj?"

"No ta. Just ate," said Raj.

Sevvy vanished into the crowd, leaving Raj with Ryu.

"So I was wonderin'" he said, "does it hurt to turn into a dragon?"

The table was laden down with steaming meats, baskets of fruit and bread. Sevvy went round, whistling to himself, piling up his plate into a small mountain.

"Did you not eat for a week or something?"

Sevvy turned round, chicken leg sticking out of his mouth. It was a young girl, no more than ten and two, smiling mischievously. She wore an elegant purple chiton, her blue hair done up prettily behind her head.

Sevvy tore a chunk of the chicken leg. "Well.. Let's just say, I've got the stomach of a dragon." And he reached across the table for a handful of clams.

"You think you're funny, don't you? I can tell," the girl said.

"Think? I know so."

"Oh really?" He looked over at her. She was still smiling, her eyes twinkling.

"Someone has to be, with siblings like mine." He piled on a spoon of potatoes. "Spent the last fortnight travelling with Mr Grim himself. Easier to make a mountain smile."

"How terrible for you."

Sevvy grinned at her. He couldn't tell if she was making fun of him or not, and he liked it. "What about you?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're here to compete for the princess too?"

She shook her head. "I'm looking for my sister."

His plate was full to bursting point. Time to go back and find Ryu and Raj. "Hope you find her then. Nice meeting you...?"

"Deis."

He stretched across for one last radish. "Nice meeting you Deis, My name's.." When he turned back, she'd vanished. Into thin air. "...Sevvy...?" he said.

It was like a ghost entered the room. A murmur moved like a breeze through the hall. Ryu looked away from the window and looked up.

"My bride," Raj said, with a note of pride, as though he'd won the tournament already.

Nina moved behind the high table and sat beside her father. She was wearing a silk dress that fell like water around her. Her golden hair was braided up behind her head and held in place by her silver crown.

She was the exact double of her sister. Frighteningly so, so that a shiver of something like unease ran through Ryu. It was like seeing a corpse walk.

Chapter Text

It'd been some years ago now, Ryu remembered, that Christina had come to Dracon. She'd been on a goodwill tour following the second war with Nanai, giving gifts to orphans made by the conflict, and visiting the local temples. They hadn't expected the Wyndian princess to come to Dracon. They might be allies, but in the southern lords minds the the People of Dracon were too different: they were savage, backwards, animalistic- the massacre at Ludia, they said, had demonstrated that, quite aptly.

He'd admired the Wyndian girl who'd had the audacity to visit Dracon in the middle of a northern winter. A delicate pale-skinned girl she arrived shivering, wrapped in furs upon furs: yet she never complained.

"I wanted to see the winter lights," she said.

She stayed with them a fortnight, observing their culture, giving little presents to the children. She even visited their sites to Ladon, though she never made any offerings. She was dedicated to her own, nameless god. Sevvy teased her and she teased him back; she spoke with Locke about the political climate; lastly, she turned to Ryu.

Even though it was just a fortnight, Ryu remembered her well. She was one of those kind of people that gave of a kind of light; there was something special about her.

She came to him when he was sparring with Master Lebanon. Sarah was sat watching him; she came to watch him most days now, and Lebanon was always smacking him by the ear for smiling and waving at her when he was supposed to be concentrating.

"You stand around smiling like a fool with a real enemy," the blade of Lebanon's sword came up out of nowhere to his neck, "you end up dead."

Ryu pushed his sword away, laughing. "Alright, alright," he said, smiling over at Sarah. She snickered into her hands.

"And you over there-" Lebanon jabbed an irritated finger finger at Sarah, "go somewhere else. You're distracting my student."

Sarah ran off, laughing. It was only then that Ryu even noticed Christina, sat up on the wall watching him. Somehow, she'd managed to lose her princessguard, a train of shivering men in chain-mail who followed her everywhere.

"Don't mind me," she said. "I just wanted to see some Draconian swordsmanship in action."

They practised for another good half an hour. By the time they'd finished Ryu was soaked with sweat.

"Excellent," said Lebanon. "You did very well this time. If you can keep your eyes off certain young women, you might actually succeed me in skill one day."

Ryu turned a bit pink. "Hey, hey. I get," he said.

Christina slipped down the wall and approached them.

"What do you think Princess?" Lebanon asked her. "Is he as good as your kingsguard at home?"

"It's such a different style of fighting," she said. "Something about the footwork, I think... it's much faster."

"It's the armour, Princess. It means we have a much faster, more nimble style of swordsmanship."

"Isn't that much more dangerous?" she said.

"Certainly. But boys in Dracon are much more foolhardy than in Wyndia, after all."

"Don't you worry about getting hurt?" she asked Ryu. He grinned, sheathing his sword against his hip.

"Not really," he said.

"See what I mean?" said Lebanon. "Mind you, I was exactly the same. Boys in Dracon, we come into our power and think we're indestructible."

"And the girls?" she asked.

"Some of those as well! That girl earlier, Frode's daughter," he nudged his head to where Sarah had sat, "she's one of them."

Ryu noticed Christina looking at him curiously. He rubbed the bristly back of his hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow at dawn, Ryu," Lebanon said, sheathing his own blade. He began to pick up equipment from their training session, moving back to the citadel.

"I wanted to ask you something," Christina said. Ryu looked up at her. "Queen Brynhildr was telling me the winter lights are going to be beautiful tonight. She said you know the best places here to see them. I was wondering if...?"

"Sure, I'll take you," Ryu said. "It's dangerous to wander into the woods alone here if you don't know how to defend yourself. Do they really not even teach girls to use a bow in Wyndia?"

She smiled. It was a gentle smile, like honey. "Wyndia is... very different from Dracon. Especially for girls. There's a lot we can't get away with."

"Really?" Contemplatively, he leant down to unlace his boots. "I thought it was bad enough, here. I don't see why men and women have to act certain ways and do certain things in the first place."

"That's an interesting thought. I've never really considered it, to be honest. Don't you think it would look funny though, if you came out one day wearing a dress?"

He straighted out. He was smiling a crooked, distant, sad kind of smile. "Maybe," he agreed.

Night. Bright, cold, stars stared down at them like spears. They left the horses, and waded through the calf-deep snow, light as sugar and cold as ice.

They made their way upwards, through the darkness of the pine trees, stars peeking through the thick foliage. In the silent darkness, only the hoot of an owl and the crunch of snow. Ryu took Christina's arm to stop her losing her way in the dark.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, though even in her furs he could feel her shivering.

"It's just a little further," he told her.

They continued climbing. The branches broke apart over them like an overcast sky. Above them, the winter lights waved like curtains of phosphoresce in the air.

"Amazing," Christina breathed.

They climbed to the top of the hill, and there Ryu pulled off his fur lined cloak and spread it overt he snow. They sat together, leaning against a smooth rock.

"I come here most nights," he told her. "It's the best spot for leagues around."

She shuffled in beside him to get comfortable. "Always on your own?" she asked.

"Sometimes." He paused. "Or else I come with Sarah."

"That girl from earlier?"

"Yeah."

They sat, watching the lights move in the sky. For Ryu, as always, it felt as though the tribulations of the day were lifted from him, thrown high into the sky. His mind blissfully blank, he glanced over at his companion. She watching the lights, utterly enraptured. From her mouth she exhaled a breathful of air like spun sugar.

"You should come to Wyndia one day," she said, and she smiled at him. "I want you to meet my sister Nina. I know you'd get on well."

"Why'd you say that?"

"Well.." She paused, pursing her lips. "She loves things like this. For example, she's always sneaking out onto the kitchen roofs, just to watch the stars. My parents are always angry at her."

"For watching the stars?" Ryu was baffled.

"As I said, it's different in Wyndia. We can't even leave the palace without the guard. "

Ryu couldn't help but wonder: in that case, what was she doing alone here, with him?

Their eyes met, and Christina smiled a wry, knowing smile. They both laughed; neither really knew why.

Christina laid back, the lights flickering in her eyes.

"I love the dark," she said, tossing the words like a handful of stones into the night. She pulled her knees up, slinging her arms around them. "I feel like you can only be really honest in the dark. Do you know what I mean?" She turned her bright eyes on Ryu, but it didn't seem like like she was really asking a question.

"For example, my sister and I..." she said, "we used to be really close. And at night, we'd leave the curtains open, and the moonlight would stream in through the window, and we'd have these amazing conversations. We'd talk for hours, about amazing, incredible things. It made me so happy."

"Used to?" Ryu asked.

Christina nodded. She leant forward, her forehead touching her knees. Her words seemed to shrink as she spoke. "It's as though I don't know her any more. Like she's become a stranger, or I have. It makes me feel awful."

"That's what happens with siblings," said Ryu. "It's only natural. You've nothing to feel guilty about." As he spoke, he thought of his own siblings; Sevvy, who drove him mad, and Locke, always, always patronising. Stop dressing like a boy, for Ladon's sake. You're meant to be an adult; playing pretend is for children. "They don't understand me, either," he said, teeth on edge.

"I know it's natural to grow apart, but... I don't know, it's just not fair. It's lonesome." She stared out into the dark. In the moonlight, her face gleamed like an egg. She turned to Ryu with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. These are my problems. I didn't mean to burden you with them."

Ryu shook his head. "Don't worry."

"What about you then?" she was smiling again, the quirk of her lips almost sly.

"Me?"

"You. Do you have someone you're close to like that? Who you can tell anything to?"

Ryu rubbed his cheek with his hand. "Well..."

"Maybe Sarah?" she suggested.

"She's just a friend," Ryu said quickly.

Christina was smiling widely. "I never said she wasn't."

"Ah." He realised his mistake.

"How adorable. You should blush more often. It's very becoming," Christina said. She was laughing at him.

"You're teasing me," he accused her.

Playfully, she cupped her cold hand round Ryu's pink cheek. "On the contrary, I'm always sincere. You should ask my sister- 'Would you stop being so bloody pious for one second, Christina?!'"- and then, "Goodness me, you're warm." She cupped her other hand to his face. "I bet you're not cold at all, are you?"

"Nope."

She held onto him for a few seconds longer. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. Not by daylight, anyway." Tenderly, as though she was releasing a baby bird, she let go of him.

"You're right," Ryu said. The words left him fast; they flew from his lips on wings. "She means everything to me. No one has ever known me like she does. She understands me. It's like I am her. When I'm with her I feel- I feel-"

"Eternal?" Christina said.

"Eternal. Yes." The word left him in a kind of relieved sigh. He asked, "How did you know?"

"I felt the same way, with my sister," Christina said quietly. They were both silent. What a relief it was, Ryu thought, just to say the words out loud.

"Have you told her yet?" Christina asked. Ryu shook his head. "Well, why not?" she demanded.

"It's complicated. More so than you know."

"It doesn't sound that complicated to me. You love her. It sounds like she loves you. What are you waiting for, spring?"

"I don't know..."

Quite suddenly, she gripped his hand. Tightly.

"Intimacy doesn't last forever," she said. Her eyes were bright, furious even, blazing under the aurora. "You need to grip it with both hands," she squeezed him tighter still, "otherwise, it's going to get away."

*

With a roar of applause, the tournament began. Fields had been cleared to make way for the tournament grounds, stands had been erected, lines for the coming race marked out. The sea of tents beside the city had become a city of its own.

It was high noon, the sun a blazing circle in the centre of the sky.

Ryu stood with the other competitors, immersed in the spectacle. He watched, as King Philip was handed a knife and sacrificed the two bejewelled and gaudily decked bulls. He slit their throats, and the hot blood spilt down onto alter.

Ryu glanced over at the man he found himself beside; he was tall as a tree with skin the colour of rich earth. "Which god is he making the dedication to?" he asked.

"Myria." The man smiled down at him. "The King's no believer himself; it's a popularity stunt. She was her Highness Princess Christina's god. The people have a fondness for Her, you see."

"Myria." He tasted the name on his tongue. "I haven't heard that name before."

"I've been told her believers don't call her by name. Of anything else about her I know very little, I'm afraid. In the Cedarwoods we keep the old gods."

Ryu offered his hand to him. "Arryn," the man said.

The Gameskeeper stood from the wooden stands to announce the order the events. The were to be a number of different events spanning the fortnight, the winners of which would take part in the final event. Today would be the foot-race.

Ryu's eyes slid away from the Gameskeeper across the stands to the royal party. Princess Nina was sat there with them. She was so much like her sister it was unnerving to look at her, yet he couldn't seem to draw away. She turned her head his way and for a moment he thought that she would catch his eye. But she looked past him, away, up into the sky.

When Ryu looked back, he saw Philip approaching them. In his finery, he made a fine figure, marred by the fact his weight gave his stride somewhat of a waddle. The captain of his kingsguard in his gold glinting armour strode by his side.

He kept it to the point. "Men," he said. "Good luck."

He saw Locke step forward with several others to try to converse with Philip, but Ryu stayed where he was. A woman who could be no one other than Nina's mother leaned over to speak with her. Nina made no reply. She gazed out: Ryu wondered what she was seeing.

He tries not to think about her, because she reminds him of her sister and it's a morbid thought.

He did up his sandals tightly, scuffing them against the chalky ground to check their tightness. He straightened up. By his side, Sevvy was peeling off his tunic, stretching. By the track, crowds over a thousand were assembled.

Raj ambled over towards them. He wasn't dressed for the race.

"You're not competing?" Sevvy asked. Ryu thought he sounded disappointed.

"Do I look like a fast runner to you?"

Ryu looked him up and down; his broad muscular body and arms.

"Exactly," he said. "I'll leave you good lads to it. Me? I'm saving myself for the boxing."

The day was hot and clear. The great blue sky stretched out endlessly, tiny snail trails of clouds creeping listlessly in the blue.

The competitors for the first heat were called. Sevvy was to take part, as well as Lord Arryn, some other well-born noble from Wyndia, the prince of Hometown and the son of of some chief in some town past Shyde.

Sevvy struck Ryu playfully. "Let me show you how it's done," he said.

He watched his brother stride over to the track. The competitors took their marks. The cheering had become ferocious, particular from the parties who'd come to support their lords.

The Gameskeeper blew his whistle, and Ryu saw his brother explode off the mark like wildfire. As Ryu knew he would, he left his competitors behind in the dust. He was a blur in blue, and seconds later gave one final leap across the finish line. "Yahoo!" he called.

As the crowd applauded Sevvy, the rest of the competitors crossed the finish line: none of them had had any hope of passing Sevvy.

"Your brother really is something," said Raj.

"He's a nimble little bastard, that's what he is," Ryu said.

The winner from the next heat was some Daunish chieftain's son, next a boy from Tunlan. A hawk whirled up overhead. Raj was sweating beside him, but seemed not to want to lose face by seeking shelter. Ryu started when the next list of names were called.

"I thought Locke said he wasn't going to compete," Raj said, conversationally. He looked startled when Ryu leapt up.

Furiously, Ryu strode across the sand to where Locke sat laughing with a Wyndian soldier, doing up his sandals.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Locke looked up as though he were ever so politely surprised. Ryu blazed into his eyes. That god awful scar.

"You wanted something, Ryu?" he said, as though he were speaking to a child.

"I asked you what you think you're doing."

"What does it look like? I'm getting ready for the race." Again, in that light civilised tone Ryu detested. That was always Locke's way: always pretending to be the calm one. So piously righteous.

"You said you weren't looking for another bride."

"Is that what that mad face is about?" He shook his head, passing an amused smile to the Wyndian, who seemed nonplussed by the whole confrontation. "Don't worry your pretty little head Ryu. Sarah is my only bride. I've never shame her like that. I'm not competing to win: I just want to test my skill against others."

So that was it.

Even after all this time, he still refuses to let me win. Taking my dignity wasn't enough for him.

He tore himself away. "Fine," he spat.

He didn't want to win- he just wanted Ryu to lose. Ryu glimpsed it all, in the cracks between his smug smile. The fire was in his veins. Was it possible to hate a man as much as he hated his brother?

But Ryu didn't intend to lose again. Not to him.

Ryu crouched on the starting line. He looked to his side: Prince Avalon was competing in this race, along with some men and boys he didn't recognise. Second to the end, Locke was taking his mark.

The adrenaline ran like ether through his body. The crowd, the excitement, the competition: he'd forgotten how he'd loved them. His mind went back to the year he'd won the gold shield at the solstice games. He'd known true happiness that day. His javelin hit every mark as though the god had inspired it. Brynhildr presented him with the shield, and Sarah threw herself into his arms. "Kiss her!" the crowd had cried. He kissed her. The people cheered.

Ryu's jaw hardened as he looked across the line at Locke.

You took everything I ever cared about away from me, brother, and you pretend you've done nothing wrong. I can't forgive you.

The Gameskeeper asked them to take their marks. "Start!" he said. Ryu ran.

Feet pounding on the chalky ground, Ryu looked to his side. He'd overtaken several already, though Locke and some other golden haired boy were still ahead of him. His calves burning, he pushed himself further, till he was square with the boy. He pushed past him, chasing down his brother.

I won't let him beat me. I can't.

Locke was flying fast, mouth set in determination. When he saw Ryu, coming level against him, his head flitted towards him. His thick eyebrows furrowed.

You should look concerned. I'm going to leave you in my dust.

His pushed himself even further, his muscles screaming. Locke responded, matching his pace. It was him and Locke now, the others long forgotten.

"Just give up," Ryu called. Again, Locke flicked his eyes at him, condescending irritation, as though Ryu was a child trying to join in a grown ups' game.

"Slow down, little sister. You'll hurt yourself," he said.

Sister!

A low, low blow.

Once, Ryu might have stumbled. Now, anger and adrenaline mixed together into something potent. He forgot the pain of his muscles: he burst forward, overtaking Locke, flying over the finish line.

The crowd in the stands cheered. Raj was by his side, clapping him on his arm. Jubilation danced in his veins. Locke was standing some ways away, catching his breath. Ryu caught his eye, and moving away from Raj he passed him by. As he did so, he touched his shoulder. Said quietly, "Call me sister again, I'll kill you."

The antagonism needs to come from Ryu and his perceptions of what Locke is thinking.

Also make the race scene less shit

In the final race, Ryu came third. Second was Jaden, Hometown's prince. In first place was his brother Sevvy. Ryu had expected no different: after all, Sevvy had been beating him in foot-races since the boy was twelve years old.

Seated in the stands, Ryu watched as Sevvy approached the stage where Philip stood with the Gameskeeper and the princess. He saw as Sevvy spoke to the King, though he couldn't hear the words. He was presented with a gold inlain chest, and knelt, as Nina moved to lay a crown of laurels on his head. As she did so, Ryu wasn't sure but he thought he saw the princess's lips move. He saw Sevvy smile.

Later, after all the furore had died down and they sat in the hall drinking and celebrating, he remembered to ask her what she'd said.

"Oh!" said Sevvy. He grinned wryly. "She told me I was very quick. And when I thanked her, she said, 'If you're going to be my husband, I hope you don't finish that fast in bed.' Man, I like her already!"

Chapter Text

From outside the city came mouthwatering smells; the hawk swept down low, over the wagons of the vendors, men hunched over firepits with haunches of sizzling meat. He passed over a woman with a basketful of ripe oranges, a snatch of her shrill call "-juiciest oranges, this side of Shyde-" and then he'd left her behind, his beady eyes fixed on tender leg of lamb in a child's hands. He swooped, and with his talons tore the meat out of her hands. She screamed, and the hawk took back to the clouds with his prize.

There were thousands of people gathered on the plains. He soared over the clamour by the betting wagons, men with fists full of ticket stubs calling out the name of their favoured victor. "Prince Avalon of the Faeries!" "Lord Arryn!" "Prince Ryu to champion the swords contest!" "His brother, Prince Locke!" Past the hubub, he flew above the chatter in the stands, seats designated for highborn families and standing space for the rest. The whispers and gossip of the royal party, rising on the updraft. The glint of King Philip's crown that did nothing to disguise the bald patch, large as an eagle's egg. His daughter and her golden tresses, looking out disinterestedly.

The shh-ing and clang of metal. In the middle of the stands on the dusty ground, two men were duelling, swords in hand. The hawk circled above them: he felt a strange smell from them. Though they had the bodies of men, they had the scent of another creature entirely.

I won't let you beat me, Ryu thought.

Shh-ing!

Ryu's sword clashed off his brother's. He recovered quickly, with the nimble footwork he'd shown Christina so many years ago. When Locke slashed at him, he simply stepped back, out of the way, and swept in again, tight and fast, blade crashing against his brother's.

Locke's face was tight, eyebrows anchored together, sweat gleaming on his temple. His scar was stretched tight, shiny as a blister.

This was familiar dance: they'd gone through the steps so many times, for so many years before.

The smell of straw and sweat in the yard. Lebanon's puzzled face, as Ryu, ten years old exclaimed, "You heard me. I want you to teach me how to fight!"

"But..." Lebanon had said, looking down at his little princess. Though, it was true, he did not have to look down far now.

"Locke learnt to wield a sword when he was eight years old. And Sevvy's only six and he's got his practice sword already. So why not me?" Ryu demanded. His voice was high, but clear, like the carrying note of a flute.

"But Princess, you're..."

A girl, he meant to say. But it was true that Ryu didn't look much like a girl. For years, she'd dressed in boys clothes. She was a changling child, her tunic scuffed and dirty, her bare knees bruised. Her hair, cropped herself, was short and ragged. Her mouth was set in a firm frown and her eyes- there was something wrong about those eyes on a girl's body. They were fierce, not even a boy's. They were a man's.

Strange to admit, but Lebanon couldn't refuse those eyes.

Sliding his sword out of the sheath, he tossed it to Ryu. She caught it deftly by the handle. Lebanon watched as the girl felt the weight of it, moved it around in her hand.

"How does it feel?" said Lebanon.

She heaved it up. Strange, how it suited her. "It's heavy... but it feels good." The frown was gone. She was smiling, watching how the blade reflected the light.

"It would be heavy. It's my sword. I'll get the forge to make one suited for your hand."

The man was gone. A child gaped at him. "Really? You're not kidding?" she said.

"It'll still feel heavy though, especially if you're used to playing with sticks. We need to build your strength up. You'll need to meet with me every morning, before dawn, if you want to be any good."

Ryu nodded furiously. "Of course. And I'll polish my sword, every day."

"Well of course you will. When you are fully trained, your sword will be part of your body. And a warrior must take care of his whole body if he's ready to fight, Prince Ryu."

Ryu's eyes widened. "Prince..." he said.

Lebanon put his hand on Ryu's shoulder. "Girls don't fight with swords."

Ryu saw what Lebanon was offering him, and slowly, he nodded. He accepted it inside himself like a gift. "Girls don't fight with swords," he repeated.

Girls don't fight with swords.

Ryu sliced through Locke's defenses, a human blade in action. Locke grunted in suprise and fell back, barely scraping out of harms way. Seeing Locke going into the defense, the crowd was going wild.

Ryu saw nothing of it, only his brother, his sword.

Locke's mouth was open. He was panting. Ryu should have felt tired, but as soon as he began to feel fatigued, one of his brother's old taunts would ring inside his head. The ether would be in his veins and he'd spring, again, like a cobra, sword flashing.

"Freyjr, what do you think you're doing?"

Locke's voice went through Ryu like a ghost. He started, and his blade slipped. Lebanon's sword was pointing at his chest.

"Dead," he said. "What have I told you about losing focus? The moment you stop paying attention-"

"Lebanon, what is this?" Locke, sixteen and stocky strode between them. Lebanon did not show his impatience.

"Teaching young Ryu the art of the sword, as I did with you Prince Locke," he said.

"Her name is Freyjr," he said, "and she doesn't need to learn to fight."

Ryu stood his ground. "My name is Ryu," he said. "And I need to learn to protect myself."

Ryu expected Locke to get mad, as he had the other times. Instead, he rolled his eyes, and as though Ryu was a child, ruffled his hair. Somehow, it was almost worse. "Freyjr, you've got me to protect you. You don't need to go through with all this nonsense." To Lebanon he said, with the threat of warning: "I hope you've told the Queen what you've been teaching Ryu?"

"Mother knows," said Ryu defensively. "And she said she doesn't mind. Not if I dress like a boy neither."

"She humours Freyjr," Locke said to Lebanon, eliminating Ryu from the conversation. Lebanon said nothing, though his mouth was set in a firm line.

And Ryu felt like he was floating. The same feeling he'd had so often as of late. That he was lost somewhere, unattached to anything, drifting away.

Was everyone really just humouring him? He didn't ask to be born a girl. Why couldn't he be a boy? For years, when he was small, he thought he was a boy. It wasn't until later he learnt the difference. Ryu thought- it just wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

Like that, the feeling changed. No longer was he weightless. Something inside the pit of his stomach rose and stretched its wings. He was angry.

"I'll fight you," he said.

"Excuse me?" said Locke.

"I'll show you. I should be the one protecting you."

"Don't be idiotic." Locke refused to take him seriously. So, Ryu hit him with his sword.

Locke rubbed his arm where Ryu had hit him with the flat.

"Fight me," Ryu said again.

Lebanon stepped forward. "I think that's enough for one day. If we-"

Locke stepped forward. "No," he said. He pulled his sword from its sheath. "I've had enough of this. I'm going to knock this rubbish out of your head, once and for all."

He lunged forward with the blade, and was surprised when Ryu, small and nimble, parried out of the way. Several weeks of training had already made their mark. When he went on the attack again, his brother blocked all his blows.

And for the very first time Ryu felt it: the ecstasy of the fight, the adrenaline lighting up his whole body like a flame. He went on the attack, and his heart sung at the look of shock on Locke's face as he pushed through, their metal clashing inches before his brother's face.

The crowd in Wyndia was cheering. Their blades met, again, Ryu danced out of the way: Locke's sword struck the sand. Ryu moved in- just in time, Locke caught it with the tip of his blade.

"Close, but not close enough," he said, before he struck.

However, for all Ryu's natural finesse, his brother was older, bigger, and better trained. Over the shock, Locke came blazing back into the fight. Like the increasing tempo of a drum their swords clashed again, again. Ryu stumbled back, breathing heavily, barely managing to fend off the blows.

But Ryu was older now, almost as big and far more nimble. Their swords scraped together, Ryu forcing it down to the ground, swooping in quick for a thrust to his exposed chest. Only just in time did he move away.

Locke forced him back, all the way back to the wall of the citadel, pinning him there. Ryu was so exhausted it took nothing to knock the blade from his hand. It went flying, spinning into the dust.

"What was it Lebanon said? Right. 'Dead.''" His voice was triumphant. He was unnerved when he looked down, and saw Ryu's eyes. He didn't look defeated: they were fierce, cold, an animal's.

"Hah!" The movement was too quick: Locke lost his balance. And in that second, Ryu was in there fast. He thrust in, his sharpened blade against his chest, resting against his vital organs. There, he stopped.

"Dead," he said.

The crowd exploded into applause. Someone had run over, and had him by the shoulder, congratulating him, but Ryu wasn't paying attention. His eyes were fixed on his brother's. He noticed, he'd cut him on his arm, under the shoulder, and blood was trickling down. But if Locke had noticed, he didn't show it. He gave Ryu a curt nod, and walked away.

Ryu was flying high on the wings of victory as he was led toward the royal family. He stepped up onto the stage with buoyant steps and approached Philip, who congratulated him. He waved his daughter forward. "Nina."

She came forward, a fey creature in a dress like a gentle stream, her golden hair pinned into a circlet on her head. She was holding a crown made of laurel leaves in her hands. Ryu knelt, and she came closer. The scent of her perfume encased him: jasmine.

Perhaps this tournament would change everything, Ryu thought. He'd regain his dignity that was stolen from him by Locke. He'd beat him at every single event. As Nina laid the crown onto his head, he decided he would take her home as a prize. With a princess by his side, who would ever dare say he wasn't a man?

*

In the hall, as the musicians broke into a rendition of The Lion and the Maiden, Sevvy was trying out his best moves. A slinky Wyndian girl, one of the staff, leant against an alcove in the wall, coyly resisting his advances as he edged in closed.

"Really, you're too much!" she giggled.

"Really? There's much more to see." He slid in beside her, hand on her shoulder. "Wanna get out of here and come back to my room?"

"Sevvy I'd love to... I really can't though."

"You're breaking my heart, darling."

"You'll get me into trouble! I'm meant to be attending on Lady Eurydyke."

"The Queen?"

"Don't you know anything?" Her voice dropped lower. "Lady Eurydyke is the King's mistress. She's a real tyrant. And she'll want to go to bed soon."

"So, put her to bed... and then you can put me to bed, too."

"Well..."

"Eumeme! What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, nuts!"

It took only that. Like a shellfish, the girl darted away and vanished into the crowd. Sevvy looked round for the speaker, though he couldn't seem to find her. Instead, he recognised the blue haired little girl he'd met at the feast.

"Hey," he said, feeling disappointed.

"Your date ditch you?" she said.

"Seems that way," he sighed.

"Shame."

"Hey," he said, remembering, "did you ever find your sister?"

"Oh yes." She smiled.

*

Ryu couldn't for the life of him find a single quiet place to train. It was approaching midnight, yet there were still a dozen people on the track. He wandered the palace aimlessly, too wound up and energised to go to bed. He could hear the sounds of the festivities from the hall, cheers and drinking songs. No doubt Sevvy was there.

His mind as busy as the wings of a flock of cicadas, he didn't notice where he was going till he felt the cool night air. Ryu looked about. He was in the Water Gardens.

The garden lay in darkness, lit only by a pale moonlight. He heard the sound of water and the creaking of the windmills.

A good a place as any.

There was no guard on station, and Ryu began to look for a good place to train. The gleam of white marble in the moonlight caught his eye: it was a whimsical spiral staircase, rising to what must be an observation platform. Out of curiosity, Ryu started to climb the stairs. They went up what must be several stories, and opened out onto a round platform bordered by a railing. Ryu could see why- he was high above the city. This must be the highest part of the palace: he could see the lights in the towers, and the stained glass of the hall, movement leaping about inside.

He stepped forward to approach the railing, and then stopped. His body froze, completely motionless.

He wasn't alone. There was a young woman balancing precariously on the railing, about to jump. It was Princess Nina.

Ryu's instinct kicked in. Without making a conscious decision, he darted up, silent as a panther and wrapped his hands around her waist. He fell back, taking her down with him. The impact, as he hit the floor.

She struggled against him almost immediately. The girl in his arms was soft and weak as a kitten.

"Don't worry. I've got you," he said.

The second unexpected moment of the night occurred: the princess bit him. Out of shock he let go of her, his hand throbbing. She darted away from him, throwing herself back against the railing, which clashed. Her eyes were bright and furious, like an animal's.

Ryu found himself at a loss for words. Before he could form them into coherent sentences, they slipped out through his fingers like sand.

"What," she said, "do you think you're doing?"

"You... you were going to jump," the words left him lamely.

"Idiot," she hissed.

"What?" he said.

"I wasn't going to jump."

"But you-"

Nina stood. Ryu stopped. She'd spread her wings wide. They were white, feathery and huge. How had he not noticed them before? "Even," she said, "even if I did, I wouldn't fall. Heights can't hurt a Wyndian. Didn't you know that?"

Of course he did. He just hadn't thought. He'd acted on instinct.

But, all the same-

"What were you doing up there? You looked like... as though you were..."

In the moonlight, she'd looked translucent. So fragile looking, as though she might blow away. Her eyes: he still could still see them now. So many things at once: fierce and solemn and beneath that, terribly sad.

"As though I was what?" Nina asked. She looked straight at him: her eyes pierced him, dared him to answer. All his words died in his mouth.

The fierceness of her eyes faded. She seemed quietly satisfied by something. She turned now, pulling up the hem of her chiton, and stepped up onto the railing.

Ryu stayed as quiet as though he were under a spell. She clambered up, and with amazing balance stood on the railing, no more than an inch wide. Then, slowly, she began to lean up onto the balls of her feet. Further, until she was standing on the very tips of her toes above the abyss.

Ryu couldn't breathe. He was afraid to speak: what if she fell?

Her mouth was set in a hard line. She gazed far into the distance. She looked as though she was in pain.

The moment stretched on for what felt an eternity.

Ryu stepped forward. "Princess, why are you doing this?"

She was quiet for so long Ryu didn't expect to get a reply. Should he fetch one of the guard? There had to be something wrong with the girl.

At last she said: "Tell me."

"Princess?"

"What must it be like?" she let the words hang there. She stretched further, as if that were even possible, balancing on nothing. "To stand on the very edge and prepare to jump. To extinguish your life like a candle, with your own hands. To fall... sometimes I come up here to think about it. To wonder what it must be like."

He took another step forward. His heart was beating fast.

She stretched out her wings. Then, she closed her eyes and fell forward.

"Nina!"

He ran to the railing. It clashed loudly. She saw Nina swooping off over the city, caught up the updraft.

His hands were sweating.

When Ryu returned to their rooms, Sevvy and Raj had already come back from the hall. They sat by the fire, drunk and merry.

Ryu threw his cloak over the couch.

"Ryu! Where you been?" Sevvy said.

"Training," he said.

"Ryu, friend. Come join us!" said Raj.

He kicked off his boots. "I don't feel like it." He slammed his bedroom door behind him.

He fell down on the bed, exhausted. Even then, he could still see her: that girl, standing on the edge, ready to jump.

The image was burnt into his eyes.

Chapter Text

"What do you mean you're not competing?"

The morning light was warm and honeycomb, with the promise of heat already. Ryu and Sevvy were having breakfast in the Water Gardens. In the gazebo, they sat on low couches, and a girl served them warm rolls and honey with wine.

"I'm a mediocre archer at best, you know that," said Ryu.

"But you were all fired up about it just yesterday," said Sevvy. He tore a chunk out of his roll, looking puzzled.

"Well, I don't feel like it anymore."

Sevvy simply shook his head. "I can't keep up with your moods," he said.

"I've already won my garland. Whatever happens, I'm in the finals anyway."

"But if you win more than one event, you can eliminate someone else. One more shot at the Princess, right?"

Ryu went silent. Sevvy looked at his brother's face as he ate his breakfast stonily, and sighed.

"These rolls are great," he said.

As an abstract thought, the idea of a princess as a bride had been an appealing idea. Yet, now that he had met her, had spoken to her; not an abstract prize but a real flesh and blood woman, the idea seemed...

Out loud, he asked, "How did Christina die?"

Sevvy stopped, roll jammed half way in his mouth. "Wherth dith thath come fthrom?" he said.

"Nobody here talks about her anymore, but it wasn't that long ago. What happened to her? Was it the flux?"

Sevvy swallowed down the last of his roll and beat his breast. He shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know either. I never asked."

It could only have been six months ago, Ryu thought. How must her sister be feeling now?

Sevvy cleared his throat. Ryu started up. For once, Sevvy looked uneasy. He folded the napkin on his plate absently, as though he wasn't aware he was doing it. "Ryu..." he said, "do you remember Astrid?"

Astrid, their sister. Locke's elder by a year.

Ryu's voice was quieter, too. "Only a little. I was six when it happened, so I should remember more. But to tell the truth, I can't even remember what she looked like. I... liked the fabric of her dresses. Her hair smelled nice."

Sevvy said, "Goddamn Ludians. Those monsters."

Even the golden light seemed to dim. They sat silently.

Ryu said, quietly, as though confessing a secret: "Locke still has her portrait in his room."

Sevvy nodded. "I saw it. When I snuck in to borrow his sword last year."

It was as though they'd summoned him. Locke strode up the steps of the gazebo. "I've found you a spare bow, Sevvy. It's not great, though. I told you not to stake yours up against that grassrunner. Arryn says he's a known conman."

He found his brothers, gone quickly silent.

Both of them knew better than to speak of Astrid to Locke.

*

The archery contest ended as everyone expected, with Arryn taking the third laurel crown. Though he'd heard of Arryn's renown, it was amazing to see him in action. The man's eyesight was incredible. He could spot details in the distance that were only a blur to Ryu, and he smashed the competition. His arrow hit the bullseye, every time.

The crowd dispersed, and Ryu began to wander. Thumbs hooked round his belt, he passed by the betting caravan, where several men called out to him. They seemed surprised to see him, and called out jovially, "Hey Ryu, we're rooting for you!", "Go get 'em!", "You better not lose, Prince. I've got all my savings riding on you."

Ryu nodded at them, and passed them by.

Applause rolled like waves from the open air amphitheatre, and curiously Ryu lingered.

On the stage, an actress laid in the pretense of death, a shroud covering over her. A man, knelt by her side cried aloud: "Fie, fate! How can I forgive you? You have stolen from me my only treasure. My sister, my sweet dove. Only your under your wings could I find shelter. You were my light.

"How can I live on now that light is gone?"

Ryu pressed on. He entered the city, and when the guardsman on the gate offered him an escort back to the Palace, he declined.

"Be careful then, please, my Lord. There a pickpockets aplenty come for the games, and more shady types as well. If you insist on going, stay away from the northern sprawl."

He explored the bazaar, mesmerised by the bright colours of the carpets, silks and weaves, though indignant when the sellers thrust them into his face. He bought a ruby red apple from a vendor, and bouncing it up and down in his hand tore a bite from it.

From there he moved into the crowded city plaza, and sat by a fountain of flying fish and ate the apple down to the core. In front of him, children were running around playing tag and shrieking with laughter. Few people looked to him, but when they did they admired his fine clothes with a kind of distance in their eyes, and ignored him.

It still puzzled Ryu, how segregated the common men were from their higher ups here in Wyndia, all though sometimes all that separated them was a name. In Dracon, any man could approach him. Then again, in Dracon, there weren't more than three hundred Brood. After the wilderness, the sheer number of lives here in Wyndia staggered him. The dirty children, running about the streets like rats. Women. Women everywhere, selling, buying, babies under their arms. More life. Incredible, how all these existences could jostle so close together, brushing, pushing and shoving past and without ever making contact.

It was strange, but sat there on the fountain, Ryu almost felt lonely.

Ryu watched as the quality of the city around him crumbled. The further he walked into the city, the shabbier the quality of the masonry, the dirtier the streets. The people, too, looked shabbier, with well-worn clothes of cheap, weather-beaten leather and fraying linen. Presumably, this was the northern sprawl. Here, the city was almost constantly thrown into the shade of the Palace, and rarely saw sunlight.

As he passed, young women sat in door frames and on steps called out to him, just as the women in the market had done, with the exception being that their wares were rather more intimate.

One woman caught him by the arm. She had small wings flecked with grey and an inviting smile. "What do you say, young man? Want to come play?"

"Not interested," Ryu said.

"Come now. A boy as finely-dressed as you, what else would be be up to in this part of town?"

"Sight-seeing."

She raised her eyebrows. "So that's it. If I were you though, darling, I'd sight-see somewhere else. Round here, stick around too long, you're just as likely to be sight-seeing your own liver." She pointed back up the street. "I'd head up that way, doll. Hate to see a boy as handsome as you in bits."

Ryu couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, but I think I'll be fine."

The woman shrugged. "It's your liver. Name's Lucille, if you ever change your mind. Find me next to Old Euron's place. First visit is half price."

"I'll keep that in mind, Lucille."

She wasn't wrong, either. He'd barely made it more than a yard down the narrow street before he was set upon. Quick as lightning, someone grabbed him by the waist, a cold knife set at his neck. The men smelled of wine and piss.

"Alright, fancy man, give us the sword," the voice grumbled in his ear. "You can drop your clothes too, and maybe we'll leave your pretty little throat intact."

Quicker even than they, so fast they didn't know what had happened, Ryu had twisted out of the grasp, and even got the knife out of the thief's hand. For a second, the man stood nonplussed. Then his red-headed partner went at Ryu, twin daggers shining. Ryu pulled his sword from its sheaf, and with the dagger and his sword, caught both his attacks, twisted the blades, sent both the man's daggers flying.

Enraged, the first man charged at him with his bare fists. Ryu ducked down and caught the man by the legs, sending him over his back and sprawling into the mud and shit.

Ryu smiled and pointed his blade at the red-head, who looked like he'd just soiled himself. "Leave. Maybe I won't cut your throats, though they're not so pretty."

The thieves took the chance Ryu was offering them. The red-head scarpered, leaving his partner to climb out of the mud and barrel after him.

Behind him, someone began to applaud. Ryu turned. It was Lucille, lifting her skirts to step over the filthy clogged drain to approach him.

"Impressive, young man. Those were the Lee brothers. They've slit more throats than they've teeth between them." Here, she paused. "Well, that's not saying much, I guess. Come walk with me."

She turned away, expecting Ryu to follow her. He said, "I'm not looking for someone to sleep with."

She looked back over her shoulder, mock cross. "How presumptive of you! I only asked you to walk with me. These streets are dangerous, after all. Do you only have sex on the brain, young man?"

Ryu stood for a moment, then his mouth turned up into a smile. He fell in with her, and she took him out of the dingy alleyways, leading him back out into the light of the plaza.

In front of him was a statue he hadn't seen before.

She was cast in pure white marble, stretching out her hands as though to embrace the whole city. Larger than life. Christina.

Strange, how she wasn't here anymore, and still cast such a long shadow.

"Here's a proper piece of sight-seeing for you, Mr Tourist," Lucille said, seeing him looking. "This here's our late princess. You know about our princess?"

Her face had been cast exactly in her image. Perhaps they'd used Nina as the model.

"I've heard of her," he said.

"Tragic," Lucille said. "You know what happened to her?" Ryu shook his head. She slipped down to sit at the plinth of the statue, patting the space beside her. After a moment, Ryu took a seat.

"I don't, no."

"Well, there's the official story. That she died of that bad case of typhoid that hit the city last year," Lucille said.

"And the unofficial story?" Ryu asked.

"That she was murdered."

Ryu's breath caught. "But she was loved, wasn't she?"

"She was," Lucille agreed. "But all the same, Princess Christina died, and then the King ordered the arrest and execution of all two-hundred members of the cult of Yanoo."

His brow creased. "The two are connected?"

"If you're as smart as your knives are sharp, I'm sure you can figure it out. Of course, there are some who just believe the twin sisters are cursed."

"Cursed?"

"One sister dead, the other going around the bend. Maybe that's why the King wants to be rid of the other one."

"Going around the bend?" said Ryu.

"You know... a bit touched in the head. Even before Princess Christina died."

"You seem to know a lot for someone working in your profession."

"Well I would, since I used to work in the Palace. Back before this bitch maid accused me of pinching this silver I didn’t even see, anyway. Not that I ever got close to her myself, but you hear things, working in the Palace. Stuff like, flying off in the middle of the night, and saying strange things. People heard her talking to herself. And I never told you this, but the whispers say that she's not even a virgin. Shock! Gasp! Right? Not that I care. She could fuck the entire royal guard and their squires as well if she wanted and it wouldn't bother little old me. But then, I'm in little position to judge, am I?" Lucille grinned crookedly at him, and Ryu considered that she didn't sound that touched in the head to him.

"Well? Is that enough tourist information for you?" she said.

In reply, Ryu opened up his purse and put several coins into Lucille's hand. "Not that the jangle of zenny isn't music to my ears," she said, pocketing them, "but why exactly are you paying me?"

"For your time. You could be with a customer right now."

Lucille's eyes shined. "I like you," she said. "Tell you what. Let's make a bet. If ever we bump into one another by chance again, I'll fuck you for free." And when Ryu opened his say something, she halted him, finger pressed to his lips. "Don't refuse. Didn't your mother ever warn you about breaking girls hearts?"

*

Carrying a crisp bouquet of lilies he'd bought at the market, Ryu descended down into the crypt. He footfalls fell loud upon the stairs. It took him a moment to realise that was because it was so quiet. The silence was impenetrable, even stifling. He passed by the statues of a dozen, almost identical kings, all rotting into time.

At the very end of the crypt, there was a sight that astounded him.

Christina didn't look like she was dead, only sleeping. Like at any moment, she might wake up, and wonder at the debris of candles, incense and flowers piled around her.

Ryu was alone. Though not consciously he'd wondered if he might meet Nina here... or maybe hoped was the right word.

But it was just him, and a dead girl.

Ryu laid the flowers down with the rest, and knelt before the bier.

"Christina, it's me, Ryu. Do you remember me?" The long silence stretched on: had he really expected her to reply? "I remember you. I wish we'd gotten to know one another better. You understood me more in a day than my brothers have my whole life. I really hope you remember, wherever you've gone to now. I don't know your god, but I hope She's taking care of you.

"I followed your advice, you know. Though it didn't turn out the way I hoped. Maybe you were right. What was it you said? Intimacy doesn't last?" He stared down at his hands, pale in the light. "I was wrong all along. Sarah never loved me: she was only toying with me. Or maybe she never thought what she was doing would hurt me... I don't know which one is worse.

"Afterwards, I felt like a fool. I gave her everything... I made our connection into something magical. Until I realised there was no connection at all. All those same thoughts I thought we were thinking, the hopes we shared... I'd imagined them all in my head.

"And even now when I think about her, although sometimes I get angry, just as often, I miss her. I miss her irrationally. She betrayed me, and yet I still... I just don't understand. Why can't I let these feelings go free? Why can't I...?" His words trailed off in a tumble of emotion. Ryu leant down, his head bowed at the alter.

After a few minutes, he stood. "I'm sorry. My problems are nothing to yours: you're dead. Looking back on how I've behaved the last few years, I've only ever thought about myself. And it's terrible... but even now, with everything that's happened, I can still only think about myself."

He stepped over the heat of the candles to the alter, and gently, cupped his hand around Christina's face, just as she had done with him, those years ago. "All the same," he said, "I'm glad I met you."

A woman's voice cut through him like the pointed end of a javelin: "Get your filthy hands off her!"

Princess Nina stood in the tomb, hands round a precious pot of incense, leather sack under her arm, her eyes ablaze.

Immediately, he let go and stepped back from Christina's body. Nina glared at him fiercely, giving no indication of whether she recognised him or not. As she approached, Ryu stepped back against the wall to give her space, and her attention on him dissolved.

In fact, Ryu thought, it was as though she'd put him out of her mind completely. Approaching the alter, she set down on the ground the items from the sack; rice cakes, honey, a plate of sugared roses. He watched, as she cleared away the wilting flowers and old food and put them into the bag. Carefully, she placed the gifts on the plinth below where Christina laid, as conscientiously as offerings. When she had them precisely where she wanted them, she picked up a long taper. Lighting it from one of the braziers, she lit the pot of incense, and placed it on the alter below the bier. Smoke arose from the pot like cursive script.

From her hair she slipped a shell comb. With the simplicity of someone who's done this countless times, she slid onto the bier and lifted Christina by the shoulders, carefully, carefully, so that her head laid in her lap. Then, she began to comb her hair.

Ryu felt the overwhelming sense that he was intruding on something incredibly intimate. He knew he should leave, and yet at the same time, the same feeling held him fast. He watched as Nina brushed her sister's hair, forty strokes a-side, and brought the shine back to it. Ryu saw, how under her sister's hand her golden hair gleamed once again.

How often did Nina do this? Every week? Every day?

"Why are you still here?"

Nina didn't even look at him as she spoke. Her back to him, she continued to brush her sister's hair, in precise even strokes.

"I... I came to pay my respects to Princess Christina."

"You've paid them. Now go."

Ryu wondered later why it was he didn't go.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He took a step forward, enough to see the note of impatience playing out over her face as she said, "No. This is my job. It's no one else's concern."

"I knew your sister," he said.

"The same could be said of half the people in this city," Nina said.

But you don't understand, Ryu wanted to say. It was different. He'd known her, really known her.

Nina swung round suddenly, and gazed at him, her eyes spitting sparks.

"I know who you are," she said, piercing him to the spot like a tacked butterfly to a board. "You're one of the men my father's invited to compete in his little carnival. It isn't enough you're here to take me from my home, but you have to lay your dirty hands on Christina as well?"

"I didn't-" Ryu started.

"You make me sick. All of you, you all swan around acting like you own the place. Just yesterday I found a man here who had the audacity to cut a lock of her hair, for a keepsake."

"Couldn't you station a guard outside?" Ryu asked.

Her eyes flashed. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Ryu felt dismayed, and taken aback by the whole exchange. He said, If I've wounded you in some way-"

"You!" She laughed, cruelly. "I don't even know who you are. You probably think I do. You're all the same, noblemen." she slipped from the alter and approached him, stepping up tight. Was she trying to intimidate him? Goad him into anger? He was startled when she reached for him. "You think the whole the whole world revolves around you, and your pretty little cock." Like that she reached between his legs and squeezed. As though he'd been shocked with electricity, Ryu threw himself back, one of Nina's moulding ancestors at his ear.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said. His voice echoed.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She encroached on him again, her hand on his chest. She answered his question with a kiss.

Her lips were hot and syrupy and she reeked of sickly sweet incense. Ryu pushed her away.

"Princess," he said, "stop. You're doing something you'll regret. You're sick with grief; you're not in your right mind now."

"Why?" she said. "Just because I initiate something, instead of a man, I must be 'sick with grief?'"

"That's not what I mean. Look around yourself, Princess. Where we are."

Nina looked back, at the burning braziers, her sister sleeping her eternal sleep. Nina reached up, slinging her arms around Ryu's neck, holding him in her embrace. She closed her eyes; she looked almost peaceful. "I want her to see," she said. "I want her to know who I am."

Lucille had to be right. There was something wrong with the girl.

Taking hold of her hands, Ryu untangled her from him, holding her back. "I told you, no."

For just a second, hot anger flashed through Nina's features. Then it faded, and left something colder behind in its wake.

"Tell me," she said, creeping closer, her wrists still restrained in Ryu's hands. "The palace guards. If something were to happen, who do you think they would believe? Me? Or you?"

Ryu said nothing. He didn't like where this was going.

"I can imagine it now. Their sweet, demure little princess comes running to them, crying because some nasty foreign stranger has forced himself on her. Her clothes are all torn, and she's sobbing." As she spoke, she moved in closer, their faces almost touching, pulling hard against Ryu's grip on her wrists. "I have to say, I don't like your chances, stranger. I don't like them at all."

In Ryu's head, he could Sarah's laughter, as she hurt him.

Was it the personal mission of every other woman in this world to destroy him?

He felt fury rise in his stomach, like bile. It took all the effort he had inside him to choke it down, to stop himself from grinding Nina's wrist bones into dust.

And then, she laughed. She threw her head back as though he was hilarious, had to stifle her giggles against the fabric of her shawl. "Your expression!" she gasped. "You can wipe that mad look off your face. I'm not really going to report you to anybody. I was just toying with you." She withdrew out of his space, and Ryu let go of her wrists, though he still regarded her warily, like he would a dangerous animal. She grinned at him, tears of laughter in her eyes. "Really?" she said. "Do you think they'd really listen to me?"

Nina approached the bier and knelt down, packing the rest of her things away into the sack. She became very small.

Just what was going on here?

"What do you mean?" Ryu said. He kept his distance, but he didn't need to. In the space of a few seconds, Nina had shrunk down. She'd become that fragile, helpless creature he'd encountered above the city, battling against her own unhappiness.

She gazed up at him, eyes pools of still water, reflecting a faraway light. "If I haven't even the power to get a single guard stationed for my sister's tomb, do you think anyone would listen to me if I made a complaint against you?"

"But you're a princess of Wyndia," Ryu said.

"Was. Soon, I'll be someone else's bride. I might as well have packed my bags."

"That's insane," Ryu said, shaking his head.

"I'm not lying. Ask anyone you want. You'll discover the truth. Ask why another woman occupies my mother's- the Queen's- chambers. Or who the boy is who sits by my father's side. Even that bitch Kleopatra, my bastard sister, sleeps in my bed. My bed, and my sister's bed." Her hands tightened over the sack, till her knuckles turned white. "You think I'm a liar? Everyone in this palace is a liar. It's rotten to the core."

Thinking back, Ryu realised that she might be telling the truth. There had a been a young boy by King Philip's side each time he saw him, though Philip had no sons. And Queen Rosetta? He might have seen her, once.

Ryu knelt down beside Nina. He wondered whether to offer her a comforting hand, but wondered too if it would be presumptive. Also, he was still wary. He said, "I'm sorry."

"Why? You've done nothing." Her face was turned away, towards the floor. "I'm used to it. I've been vanishing from this city from the day I was born. First Eurydyke moved in, then her spawn. Then my sister spoke to that goddamned oracle... that was the start of it. She was mine, and I was hers, but I could never match her. Then she started preaching. Nothing could come between her and the god. She went too far. I told her... I tried to warn her..." her voice trailed off in a choked noise. Ryu thought she was crying, but when she gazed up at her sister's body, Ryu saw her face: cold as stone, lifeless.

They've wrung her dry, Ryu thought. Squeezed next to every last drop of life out of her. That's why she like this.

He wondered why she was telling him, a stranger, all of this. But perhaps that was why. He was a stranger; he meant nothing to her.

The nearby brazier guttered. Almost of out of oil, it spluttered and hissed, and went out.

In the dark, Ryu put his hand on Nina's.

"She loved you," he said. Nina didn't react. "She came to Dracon once, my hometown. She told me... how happy she was, just talking to you. She said it made her feel-" What was the word she'd used? "-she said it made her feel eternal."

Nina moved. She looked up at him, into his eyes, searching. "She said that to you?"

"Yes."

Nina asked, "Who are you?"

"My name's Ryu. I'm from Dracon. My mother is-"

"No." Her other hand moved, tightened over his. Her eyes locked him in place. Lit by torchlight, something seemed to stir within them. "I mean, who are you?"

Chapter Text

Nina remembered that when she was very small, she'd found a book in the library with folklore from different countries. And there'd been one myth in the book about twins. Twins, the story said, were people who split in the womb to become two halves. That was why only when they were together they became one complete person.

She'd ran straight to her sister with the book to show her. Yes, Christina said, that had to be it.

When Nina was fifteen, she found the book again, entombed in a shroud of cobwebs behind the heavy wardrobe, and read her sister the story.

"Oh, Nina. That's just a myth people used to believe in, you know," Christina said, combing her hair. "You never really thought it was true, did you?"

For as long as Nina could remember, she'd been looking into a mirror, trying to match her reflection. And for as long as she could remember, the lines never completely joined up.

She laid in the oaken bed she and Christina had shared for some twenty years.

It wasn't possible, but she could still smell the scent of her sister's hair on the pillow: a clean, bright scent, like dandelions.

She remembered.

*

A cold night, and they cuddled closer together under the blankets for warmth. Nina loved these cold winter nights; they reminded her of when they were children, and it did not have to be cold for them to huddle like penguins. But things had changed, and they were no longer children. Their fifteenth nameday had come last week: they were women, now. The curves she felt beneath Christina's nightgown, too, said that much.

Christina was shivering. "It-it's so cold," she said.

"I could wake up Canace and ask for the bed pan?" Nina said, making to slip away onto the cold stone floor.

"No, stay," said Christina, clutching her tighter. "If you get out, it'll be freezing by the time you get back." The two were wrapped as tightly around the other as a pair of voles. Nina pressed her smiling cheek against Christina's cold one. These were the moments she loved; when she had her sister all selfishly to herself.

The nothingness, that veil of darkness that had stalked her for years, could not hope to pop this bubble of happiness.

They shifted, Christina's back curved to her, so that they fitted together like two spoons.

"It's no good. I'm too cold to sleep," Christina said.

"Mnn... me too," said Nina, her mouth in Christina's hair. In truth, she was too happy to sleep. In the morning, she was sure, everything would be back to normal. Best to enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted.

Out of no where, Christina asked, "Nina, what do you think it's like to be in love?"

"You want to know what it's like to be in love?" Nina was so surprised she had to repeat the question. This wasn't Christina's usual brand.

"That's what I asked, silly." Although she couldn't see her face, she thought Christina sounded a bit embarrassed.

"Well..." Nina thought about it. "When person you like is around, your stomach feels really warm, and almost queasy."

"That doesn't sound so great."

"I'm not finished! You blush for no reason, and when you see them... you can't stop smiling. Even if you don't want to. You just smile."

Christina was silent, presumably thinking it over, and then she lifted herself up on her elbow, smiling broadly at Nina.

"So this is what happens when you see Pablo?"

"Christina!" she gasped, turning bright red.

"Yes, it must definitely be love. You're red as a tomato!"

She turned even redder. It wasn't like Christina to tease these days; she must have been thinking of the past, too.

"Why are you asking me this?" she said, trying to redirect away from herself. "Are you in love?"

Christina's smile fell away from her face like rain.

"No," she said. "No. That why I'm asking."

Nina scanned her sister's face, trying to figure out what she was fretting about.

"You will one day," she said. "When you meet someone handsome enough."

"But that's the thing," Christina said, biting her lip, and Christina never bit her lip. "What if I never do?"

"You will. Everybody does."

"But what if I'm not able to?"

Nina was silent now.

"I mean, we're already old enough to be married. And Anna-Maria, Yvonne, Suzette, Claudia, you, you're all in love!"

"I think you're worrying about nothing. We're not that old, you know."

It almost pleased Nina, though, that Christina was worrying. Her sister, who never worried, unless it was about her, almost always at peace. What a relief, that she was human after all.

"But you don't understand- I've tried," Christina said, shaking her head. "I've tried, and it hasn't worked."

"I don't think you can fall in love by trying. It's something that just happens."

"Then I'm just supposed to wait?" Her voice was impatient, and surprisingly, upset. Nina looked at her, and watched as she visibly calmed herself. "Maybe I'm in love and don't know it. What are the symptoms again?"

Nina smiled. Symptoms, like it was a cold or something.

"Blushing?" she said, trying not to tease.

"No," Christina said, frowning.

"Smiling when they enter the room?"

The frown deepened. "I don't think so."

"Feeling queasy."

"Ah! I have been feeling queasy lately."

"Are you sure it wasn't because of those bad oysters?"

"Oh... yes, of course, you're right."

She sounded so disappointed that Nina hated to tell her this: "I think if you're in love, you'd know it."

Christina sighed.

"Look, don't worry about it, okay? You're bound to meet someone great sooner or later. Hey, didn't you see Cylon's son staring at you last supper? He's pretty good looking, right?"

Christina frowned. "Is he?"

"Sure! He's pretty much got his own fanclub. Don't you think so?" Even as she spoke, however, Nina hoped not. Thinking about Christina and him together, somehow something about it set her on edge.

Thankfully Christina said: "I'm not sure I get it." She sounded as confused as Nina was. But then she asked; "Why do you love Pablo? Because he's handsome?"

"It's because he's..." Nina paused. Now she thought about it, she wasn't sure. He was fun to be with, and she felt a lot less lonely with him, but... "Yes, it's because he's handsome," she said.

Christina had been holding herself up propped up on an elbow. Now, she slumped down onto her back. "I just don't get it." She let her eyes close. "I'm not normal, am I?"

Shock ran through Nina like electricity.

"You shouldn't say that." In her opinion- and mainly everyone else's- it was her that wasn't normal.

"But I'm not, am I? I don't understand anything. Why people fall in love. How they fall in love. Or why they- you know..." Nina stared in bewilderment. Christina gulped. "Why they make love," she finished.

"Well..." Nina said hesitantly, "maybe you're just not interested in men."

"What do you mean?"

"Anna was telling me... about girls who aren't interested in men, but other girls."

"Girls can love girls?"

"I guess so," said Nina. She'd thought Anna was kidding at first, too.

Christina shook her head. "I don't think I'm interested in anyone. Girls or men. I mean, I'd know, would I, if I liked girls?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Then that settles it," she announced. "I'm not normal."

"Just because you're not in love doesn't mean-"

"I don't just mean about that. About everything."

"Everything?"

She cast her eyes down. "Sometimes I just feel as though I'm... out of place. Like I don't belong."

It took the air from her lungs. For a moment, Nina couldn't breathe.

"I feel that too," she said.

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot."

Christina put her hand over Nina's hand and squeezed: an echo of the past.

"Well, we should have at least something in common," she said, giggling. "We are twins."

"Yeah, something," Nina said. Christina's giggles were catching, and they shook together, Nina pressing her face into Christina's hair. They subsided into silence. Christina let out a yawn and closed her eyes, drifting into sleep.

Nina stared into the darkness, a smile on her lips.

Some indefinable moment of time later, her sister's voice rose sleepily, like a ghost: "Are-chee goin' to sleep?" she said.

"Not yet," said Nina, not startled in the slightest. "I wouldn't want to waste this."

Christina blinked, uncomprehending, and burrowed her face into Nina's neck, under in seconds.

For a while after that, Nina laid and watched her sister's sleeping face.

*

Nina awoke suddenly, to the sound of shrieking.

"Intruder! IN-TRUDER! There's someone in my-"

She reached out groggily to shake her sister by the shoulder, and-

Her hand slipped through air. She sat up, blinking, and framed in the doorway saw Kleopatra, whose screams stopped halfway.

"Ni-Nina," she said. "I thought- I thought you were a murderer. What are you doing here?"

What was she doing here?

"This is my-"

She stopped.

"Did- did you forget and come in here by accident?" Kleopatra supplied for her.

Nina nodded. Why not?

Kleopatra wore a look of relief. She fiddled with a red curl; a moment passed, and Nina realised she was waiting for her to leave.

And that was it. No how are you?, No are you well? Silence.

It was like sitting on the beach, watching the tide go out around you. All Nina had to do was be silent, comply and watch her life vanish from around her. Absolutely effortlessly.

This isn't your home anymore, after all, a snide voice whispered, close to her ear.

Not now, she thought.

"Kleo! Whatever is the matter-" Eurydyke bustled round the corner, gripping her daughter's arm. "Kleo-"

She spotted Nina stood by the bed and adopted the same blank look as her daughter. "Princess Nina," she said simply.

"Nina- the Princess, she forgot it wasn't, um, her bedroom anymore," Kleopatra explained.

Eurydyke nodded. "Understandable."

What are you standing there for for? They're waiting for you to leave. You're not wanted here.

Nina shook her head, as though she could shake the thoughts away.

Look at that girl. Go on, look at her. Nina dragged her head up to look at Kleopatra. See, they've already got your replacement. And she even looks a bit like you!

It was true. Although there was plenty of her mother in her, she had her father's eyes. Her eyes. Which shifted, uncomfortably, under Nina's stare.

"Princess, is there something the matter?" Eurydyke's words were pointed.

Quite a bit, I'd say.

"N-no," said Nina, yet she still couldn't seem to move her feet.

"Perhaps..." Eurydyke spoke softly, softly, like the snake she was. "Perhaps I should call for your handmaid, to take you back to your chambers. I think you need to rest, Princess. You don't seem well..."

Her handmaid. Zilpah.

"I don't have a handmaid anymore. Thanks to you," she snapped.

The girl, and her belongings had vanished, when she returned to her room one night. The day after, she'd seen her trailing after Eurydyke, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry," she'd whispered. "I'm not allowed to talk to you anymore."

Anger rose up in her throat like bile. This bitch, and this bitch's daughter wouldn't rest until they'd taken everything from her. Her family: her home: her dignity.

Get out! She wanted to scream. Get out of my room! Get out of my life!

And how would that help anything?

"Shut up!" said Nina. "I don't care!"

"W-what?" said Kleopatra.

"I'm not talking to you," Nina snarled.

It won't bring your sister back. You saw to that, after all.

And all anger drained from her, water down a plug hole. All feeling, too. She stood, limply.

That's not true, and you know it, she thought.

Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel any better.

Eurydyke and Kleopatra were looking at her as though she was mad.

Quite possibly, they were right.

Eurydyke murmured something to her daughter, who dashed off. She moved towards Nina, putting a slimy, mock comforting hand on her. "I understand this tournament must be very stressful for you..." she said soothingly. "After some rest, you'll feel better, Princess."

Nina nodded. Eurydyke guided her to the door, where Kleopatra met her with a member of the kingsguard.

"Come with me, please, Princess," he said. "I'll escort you back to your chambers." A hand on her back, quite firm, guided her away. Before she left, she saw the mother and daughter exchange a look. Eurydyke rolled her eyes.

Nina wanted to cry, but couldn't.

A small, gloomy guest room, narrow bed, wardrobe bulging out of the dark.

"You want me to light a lamp for you, Princess Nina?" she heard the guard say.

"No."

The door clicked closed behind her.

There was no window. It could be raining outside, and Nina wouldn't even know it. Perhaps it was raining.

She fell, backwards, onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Why are you alive? A voice said. What does your existence accomplish?

She traced the triangles on the ceiling tiles.

Your sister is gone. Tell me. Why are you still here?

"Don't talk to me about my sister," said Nina.

But after all, she-

"SHUT-UP!" Nina roared.

The voice was silent. She waited, and it didn't reply. She sunk back, hard, against the pillows.

Lately, it was getting worse.

As a child, she'd called it, the 'nothingness.' Because that, in essence, was what it was: it fed on on her unhappiness, encouraged her worst thoughts, tried to hollow her out like a pomegranate.

It started, that day at the Oracle. When she thought about it, that was when all the terrible things started happening. Both she and Christina had left, changed.

The warm hand felt like a halo, drifting over her head.

Nina's eyes slipped open.

"Her temperature feels regular, your Highness," said a man's voice.

Floating above her were the faces of her mother and one of the Palace healers.

"I-it's... cold," Nina chattered.

"You hear her?" said Rosetta.

The healer shook his head. "If there's nothing wrong, I can't fix it. This is the third time I've examined her; I can't find anything abnormal."

Then, her mother demanded, why was her daughter like this?

The healer shrugged sleekly. "She's just delicate," he said.

"She wasn't delicate before," Rosetta said. "And even if that were the case, why the nightmares? The poor girl wakes every night yelling."

"She has a mild case of hysteria. I wouldn't worry about it; this kind of thing is common for women. Leaving Wyndia for the first time must have been a shock to her."

"Christina... where is Christina?" Nina said.

Rosetta put a comforting hand on Nina's head. "She's at the temple, darling."

"Why? I want her!"

At this outburst, puzzled, Rosetta removed her hand.

"Why? She said she wanted to pray."

Pray? Her sister?

*

They sat at the back of the temple, giggling; the old double act.

"Girls!" Olympias stood over them, her voice hushed and angry. "This is a place of prayer."

"But it's bo-oring," Christina said.

"Bo-oring," said Nina.

"You wait until I tell your father-"

Her threats didn't faze them. They grinned up at her; their two smiling mischievous faces.

*

Christina closed their bedroom door behind her. Nina jumped off the bed, staring at her as if she'd gone mad.

"Christina... what are you wearing?"

Her sister touched the new article on her head. It was a headscarf, the same worn by the sibylle.

"This is a traditional kazumae, as worn by the sisterhood since-"

"I know what it is," Nina interrupted her. "What I want to know is why you're wearing it."

Christina didn't seem fazed in the slightest by her questions. "Some of the sisterhood visited the temple today. The matronette gave me it as a gift."

"Okay, but you're not seriously going to wear it?"

"Why not?"

"But..." Nina couldn't seem to find the words. Her fingernails dug into folds of her dress. Christina looked up at her. "But if you wear that, people will start to be able to tell us apart."

"So?" Christina had said.

People started to be able to tell them apart. And they went to Christina.

Apart from the nothingness, of course.

Tell me the truth. You're jealous of her, aren't you?

Jealous? Of course not! That's ridiculous.

I wouldn't blame you if you were. It's unfair, the way they paw at her.

I wish only for her happiness.

Even though your mother and father love her better than you?

W-what? That's not true.

You mean you didn't see it? The way they completely forgot about you at dinner, as soon as she entered the room?

I...

And why do you think it is, that God answers her prayers, and not yours?

I...I don't know.

Maybe God's forgotten you.

...Maybe so. But-

Maybe he's forsaken you.

But I-

God loves your sister, but hates you. You are God's child, not beloved by god. How does that make you feel?

Stop it! Leave me alone.

Why did God curse you, but bless your sister?

I don't know. Don't ask me! She's... maybe she's a better person than me.

You were both born with the same face. You were both good children. But she gets all the love and glory. Doesn't that make you angry? She must despise you; don't you despise her?

You're wrong! My sister doesn't despise me.

Doesn't she? Haven't you seen that look on her face when you say particularly something stupid? She hates you! You should hate her.

It's not true!

Hate her. Hate her with every ounce she hates you. And destroy her.

I know what you are! You're the nothingness, aren't you? I won't listen. I love my sister, she loves me. What you're saying is nothing more than slanderous lies.

Destroy her. Destroy her.

No! Get out of my head!

*

She couldn't touch her. Not when she was like this. Trailing her through the palace, to the temple, even sitting on her couch with her at dinner were the girls Nina called her disciples. Some wore the sibyllae headscarf, just like Christina. They hung on her every word. The words they exchanged might as well have been a different language.

When she was with them, Nina didn't see her sister. It was as though her aura gave off a different kind of light. She'd become a charismatic, beautiful stranger. Nina couldn't stand to look at her, and yet, she couldn't seem to look away.

She must despise you, the voice had said. What if it were right?

*

The music room at sunset, light thrown like sails across the floor. Her chiton pulled down to her waist, flimsy white gauze like sea foam. Footsteps.

"Nina." The sound of her name, a stone cast down a deep well.

The boy fumbled, blushed, panicked and ran.

Nina stood, absolutely still.

"Sister," she said.

Opposite ends of the airy room. Christina approached her, slowly, as though moving towards a skittish animal. Said nothing, as she fixed Nina's chiton, covering her modesty, all the time her eyes down.

"Tell me," Nina said. "What is is you're thinking, right now."

Christina straightened her sash, giving it perhaps an unnecessarily tight tug. "You know what I'm thinking."

"I must make you furious," she said.

Christina concentrated on straightening her collar. "Not the word I'd use. Disappointed, maybe."

Nina captured her sister's hands under hers, squeezed them tight, held them to her chest. Christina's eyes bobbed up to hers, jellyfish in the current.

"You must hate me for what I've become," she said.

Her sister's brow was pinched, right between the eyebrows. "What are you saying? How could I-"

Nina cupped her sister's cheek in her hand.

"Nina...?"

She stepped forward, and kissed her the side of the mouth. Tender, lingering. Christina let her do it, and moved back. Shook her head, beads on her headscarf waving like sea kelp.

"Nina," she said, that awful distance in her eyes, "I don't understand you at all."

don't

understand

you

at

all

...

The feeling of floating. The memories washed over Nina like water. They threatened to pull her under; at the same time, she wanted to be lost to the waves.

Whatever had happened before, it was over now. Her sister was gone.

Her hands crumpled round fistfuls of bedsheets. She squeezed her eyes closed.

Oh, Christina.

She hadn't known it before, but even then she'd been happy. None of those boys meant anything to her. She hadn't loved them, not even Dante. After all, what did butterflies and blushing have to do with love?

For as long as she could remember, there had only been one person she could love.

Only her, her, her.

Nina opened her eyes against the darkness. She swore she could hear the rain.

A snail at the bottom of the water, she waited.

Chapter Text

Lounged on Nina's and Christina's bed, Kleopatra and Drypetis were painting their nails. Drypetis, Nina's cousin leant back on her hands while Kleopatra did her feet. From her lips she expelled a languishing sigh. She was the same age as Kleopatra: fifteen, and it was rumoured that her mother had some fairy blood in her- one explanation for her pearly pale skin and milk-white hair, the fey sheen of her eyelids.

"I have to have him. I absolutely have to have him," she said.

Kleopatra's brow was creased in concentration. She laid on her stomach, the brush fanning out beautifully as she added another coat of lacquer. Red rose.

"You said that about the last one too, Dry'. And you didn't even manage to say 'hi' to him."

"But I'm really serious this time!" She started up, and jogged Kleopatra in the process.

"I told you to keep still. You've smudged it!" She reached for the wet cloth on the floor.

"Ah! Sorry..."

"I'm going to have to start again..."

She redid the nail, and only then asked her, "Who, then?"

"Prince Jaden. Prince Jaden of Hometown." She sighed, again. "Doesn't that just have a great ring to it? Prince Jaden and his lady, Princess Drypetis..."

"I think you might be getting ahead of yourself a bit." She blew on Drypetis' foot. "It's done, but don't you dare smudge it."

Drypetis pulled her foot up to herself. "That's where you're wrong," she said, a little haughtily.

"You will smudge it if-"

"Not that. I've bought a love potion."

Kleopatra stared at her friend, and burst into laughter. She buried her face in her hands.

"W-what?" said Drypetis.

"Love spells don't work, you silly thing. I thought everyone knew that."

"But- but the woman promised it'd make him mad for me..."

"I imagine it will. But that's not love: that's something else."

Slowly, Drypetis' face transformed into the colour of a pink grapefruit. Kleopatra rocked with laughter.

"Uh... oh. Um."

Still choking back giggles, she reached for her friend's leg. "Give me your other foot. Do you want that one in pink too?"

She didn't wait for her affirmation, just started laying the first coats.

"Well..." said Drypetis, "maybe that wouldn't be so bad." Her grapefruit face had faded into a soft rosy blush.

"Sounds like a sure-fire way to get inducted into the sisterhood, if you ask me."

"But..." her lips pursed in indignation. "That's not fair. Nina gets away with it, after all."

"Nina does not get away with it. Why do you think they're holding this tournament?"

"Huh?"

"Jeez Drypetis. I know you don't always think about things, but..."

"Father said it's to reinvigorate Wyndia. He said it's because everyone's depressed since Christina died..."

"Your father can say a lot of things, but he's wrong. Nina's always been a bit barmy but since Christina died she's gone completely round the bend. You know what my mother told me yesterday? She says she still sneaks out of the palace. Someone saw her in a bar, and a sailor from Rhapala claims he slept with her. Said she had a birthmark just like hers. Well, gods know if that is true, but..."

"How does your mother know all of this?" Drypetis asked.

"She knows a ton of people in the city from when she was on the stage. She actually understands what's going on in Wyndia, unlike the King, or half the people in court." She rolled her eyes, and Drypetis was shocked to hear her speak of the King that way.

Though, when it came down to it, the King was her father. Nina was her half-sister. And she was Drypetis's own cousin. It was just that the words were rarely spoken aloud. She'd been Kleopatra's best friend for years, but for all those years she'd known her, Kleo had been a girl without a title. Even at dinner her own father wouldn't talk to her; she walked by people, ignored. Drypetis's own father had warned her to stay away from her, at first.

High-born girls don't fraternise with bastards, he'd said. She might be the King's bastard, but she's still a bastard. Remember it.

And yet here they were now, sitting in the Princess's own bedroom. Or ex-bedroom, she reminded herself. It was a little unnerving, to tell the truth. She looked around at the gilded cabinets and ornate dresser: she still couldn't see them belonging to anyone but Nina and Christina.

She hoped they didn't stir up any ghosts.

"If your mother knows so much..." she began. "What I want to know is this. Who is the King going to name as his heir, when Nina is gone? Telemachus or one of his brothers?"

Slowly, Kleopatra put the brush down. She looked to her side, out of the window. Wyndia at high noon.

All her life, people had been telling Drypetis she wasn't bright, but the truth was that she wasn't unintelligent at all. And when she wasn't shyly hiding her face from the world- which she did with most, because most people made her very nervous- she saw a lot.

"No way!" she said, covering her mouth with her hands. "You're kidding."

Kleopatra shot Drypetis a small, annoyed glance. "Damn. Mother said I wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

Drypetis pinned her hands down under hers. "You're serious? You're really serious?"

"Oh, alright, alright..." A smile broke over Kleopatra's face. Shy at first, then radiant, like the dawn breaking over the fields. "Once Nina's married, Father's finally going to acknowledge us. He's going to name Alexon his heir."

"That's brilliant! But... what will happen to the Queen?"

For a moment, clouds passed over the sun. "I don't know. I don't care. That bitch has hated me since Mother brought me here. I know it was her who tried to get me sent to the sisterhood, just for talking to that boy. Does she really think I'd be stupid enough to do something like that?" Her mouth was set in a firm, hard line, but there was injury in her eyes. "Maybe they should ship her to the sisterhood, and let her get a taste of her own medicine. Hah!"

Drypetis bit her lip. This must be what conflicted loyalties tasted like. The Queen was her aunt, but Kleopatra was her best friend... and, she was her cousin too.

So what was she going to do?

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"I just remembered... I already got Eumeme to put the potion in Prince Jaden's tea..."

Kleopatra roared with laughter.

*

It was like preparing for a pantomime.

The two servant girls arrived for Nina in silence, ushered her into the brightness of the dressing room, and in silence prepared her for the day. They stripped her out of the crumpled dress she'd slept in without a word and dressed her in a fine silk chiton, murmuring to one another inaudibly. They combed her hair, pushed her head to the side to put her earrings on, and sent her out.

She was sheparded out to the stands, and climbed until she reached the royal box, where she found her place next to her mother. Sat above her was the King and his mistress, and a little way along she heard the inane chatter from her cousin Drypetis and Kleopatra. Nina glanced over at her mother, to see how she was taking this. As always, her face was stalwart.

It was the biggest Games Nina had ever seen, far bigger than the tournaments held at the solstice, and even bigger than the funeral games they'd held for her grandfather.

However, Nina had never had the slightest interest in sports, not even if they were being held in her name.

The discus was in full swing. She watched on, head in her hand, as the oiled up dopes threw the heavy balls of irons, the crowd reacting wildly to each throw.

Why is throwing bits of metal entertaining? She thought, as her mother jabbed her in the side.

"For gods sake Nina, at least sit up straight," she hissed. "All eyes are on you."

At least have the courtesy to pretend she cared, was what her mother was saying. Nina behaved as though she didn't even hear her, till she caught a flash of blue from the grounds. She sat up straight.

It was the man she'd met in the crypt. Ryu, he'd said his name was. Stepping up to the line, he threw the discus. It soared, thunking down into the sand. The crowd cheered. A boy ran to take the measurements.

"One-hundred-seventy-nine foot! Prince Ryu is in third place!"

Cheers, and some boos, and Nina turned to her mother, hair flashing around her. "Who is that?" she asked.

Rosetta's eyes snapped to her. She seemed puzzled by her curiosity. "One of the princes from Dracon. Why do you ask?"

Nina didn't answer. She looked back to the field, as Ryu walked to the suitors' pen. Another man, with his own shade of hair cut short and spiky clapped him on the arm.

"He won one of the events, didn't he?"

"Yes..." said Rosetta warily.

"Dracon. They're from the north, aren't they? They have the spirits of dragons inside them."

Rosetta made a disparaging noise. "I know," she said. "But your father just made a truce with them. We had to invite them, or it would have looked bad."

The discus thunked.

"One-hundred-sixty-seven foot! Farman is in sixth place!"

"He's hardly a prince, really..." Rosetta said. "Dracon isn't any bigger than a village. But because of their strength, we have to treat them like allies. I didn't even know they had three princes till last week." She inclined her head to a third man, marked a Draconite by his hair. This man looked older than the rest, taller and more well-built. His hair he'd tied in a short ponytail, and there was a nasty scar that marked him over his forehead the the bridge of his nose. "That's the oldest son, Locke," she said. "You met him, years ago. Do you remember?"

"No."

Rosetta shook her head, like she didn't expect her to. "The other boy, there, who won the foot-race, that's Sevothtarte." She turned her eye on Ryu. "I don't know the name of the other brother though..." her brow creased in frustration. For years when they were children, she'd quizzed Nina and her sister endlessly over the names of relatives and important people. It was unheard of for her mother not to know a name.

"Prince Ryu," Nina supplied.

Rosetta looked at her oddly. "How do you know that?"

"They just announced it," she said.

Thunk. "One-hundred-forty-eight! Lord Arryn is in tenth place!"

Her mother's gaze lingered over her, but Nina let her attention slip away. She watched as Ryu walked to a tall dark-skinned man to speak to him. Next to him, she saw how slender he looked and androgynous. He seemed almost like a woman, except that he clearly was not.

"I met your sister," he'd told her. "Talking to you, she said it made her feel eternal."

A shiver went through her. It had been years, since Christina had spoken last like that. How had he called her back?

Just who is he? she thought. Who was he to her?

Thunk! A cheer roared up.

"One-hundred-eighty-nine foot! We have a winner. Prince Jaden beats Avalon for first place!"

Nina thought that the young man with a nest full of tawny hair, however, was looking rather wobbly. From behind her, Drypetis and Kleopatra exploded into a flurry of whispers.

*

At sunset, Ryu watched Jaden and his entourage being frogmarched from the city by the captain of the kingsguard and his men. He, and several of the suitors: Raj, Avalon; the fairy prince and Ryu's brothers stood on the observation deck above the water gardens looking down.

"I don't get it," said Sevvy. "I thought he was a good guy. Not even I'm that forward.."

"That wasn't being forward. It was just idiocy," said Locke.

The whole crowd had seen. Jaden had been escorted up to the stage to recieve his laurel crown. Nina had approached him, and then he'd grabbed her and kissed her passionately on the mouth.

"Maybe you can get away with that kind of thing in Hometown," Sevvy suggested.

"In Worent, if you want a girl you gotta catch her and kiss her," Raj added in.

"However," Locke said, "we're not in Hometown, or Worent. If he can't learn that, he ought to stay in his castle."

"I'm not sure he had much choice in the matter," squeaked the fairy prince. Avalon was no bigger than a cat. He hovered on jewelled wings flitting as quick as a dragonfly's, his white hair hanging like a cloak around his tiny body. "Smells like trickery to me. And I should know."

"Trickery?" said Sevvy.

At that moment, Arryn approached them. He was so tall it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He looked at the other suitors, quite carefully, and said, "There's something I want you all to see."

They sat in Arryn's quarters, similar to Ryu and Sevvy's. A plush sitting room with unlit fire, light tapestries and low couches. Together they crouched around a vial Arryn held in his hand. "Wormroot," he said. "I found traces of it in Jaden's tea."

"Wormroot?" said Raj. "Wha's that supposed to mean?"

"Wormroot is the root of the passion flower," Ryu explained, to surprised faces. "Named so because it's the most common ingredients used in love potions. That's right, isn't it Arryn?"

Arryn nodded, looking impressed. "Jaden was behaving oddly this morning. He belongs to a lineage of chivalrous gentlmen; when I saw how he behaved with Nina I knew he must have been drugged or spelled."

"But how didja know what it was? I've never even heard of the stuff before," Raj said.

"The Cedarwoods is a hotspot for herbs and roots. Every girl and boy there grows up learning their names, myself included," Arryn said, a little wry.

"So..." Sevvy said, his thinking face on. "Jaden's got an admirer?"

"You don't think...?" said Locke, peering at Arryn, who nodded.

"I do. Somebody drugged Jaden purposely so this would happen. They knew he was a good contender, and they wanted him out of the competition."

A silence slipped into the room like a cold draft. Ryu could almost hear the cogs in heads turning, the suspicions starting. First there would be huddled whispers: later, the accusations would fly.

Abruptly, Ryu stood.

"Bro?" said Sevvy.

"Later," he said, and he walked out.

He didn't want to listen to it. Why was it that wherever people gathered, they brought their gossip and intrigue along with them? It was far simpler, outside. The solitude of the clean air called to him like a songbird. That's where people are meant to exist, he thought. I should leave, right now. Who cares about this contest? I could explore the southern ridges and loop back round up north... all of this is useless, useless.

But, he thought, Mother has asked me to be here. And, besides...

It was strange. But in a daze he'd wandered, and his feet had taken him straight to the door of the crypt.

He paused, and descended down.

Knelt down, Nina straightened the lace cloth laid over the alter. Someone had skewed it, probably the same time they'd left the tacky candles. She cleared them all away, to throw out with the rest of the rubbish.

Footsteps. Nina placed her own candles onto the alter. A voice asked, "Can I help you with that?"

She looked up. Above stood Ryu. She had hoped- no, that was too strong a word, wondered, maybe, if he would come again.

She held up a taper. "You can light the candles for me."

He took the taper from her, and set it alight from one of the braziers. He knelt down beside her. She watched his face in the candlelight as he lit all the wicks. He was a strange looking man, Nina considered. His face contained a beauty most men didn't have; it wasn't soft, yet it contained an intangible quality that was almost feminine.

"These are good quality candles," he said.

"They're the last ones I've got, unfortunately. The wick's gone on half of them."

"Have you still got them?" he asked. She nodded. "Listen. What you need to do is melt the spare wax down in a saucepan. Get some cotton string from your dressmaker and you can make a new wick with it."

Never in her life had Nina had to make her own candles. It was a charming idea.

"You've tried this?" she asked.

"A ton of times. It's a necessity if you're out in the wilderness with no stores for leagues around. You can use a small jar for the candle. I hang the wick in on off a spoon." He finished lighting the candles, and waved the taper out.

"You sure you're a prince?" she asked.

He smiled at her. It was a ironic, half-deprecating, almost shy kind of smile. "I'm not much of a prince, really. My tribe's no bigger than three-hundred men." How strange. Her mother had said exactly the same thing.

"But you're ruthless. That three hundred was enough to wipe out the entire kingdom of Ludia."

"Well... we're strong, that's all."

"Nothing at all must frighten you."

"Everyone's frightened of something," he said, quite candidly.

"But it must be incredible, to have that amount of power inside you. If I had it..." If I had it, I could have protected her, she thought. Candles lit, she sat back onto the cold stone ground and gazed away, her attention drifting off.

"Are you okay?" Ryu asked, jolting her back. "From earlier, I mean. I saw what Jaden did."

She smiled. "From that? A little kiss? He kissed like a little boy. My own grandmother could have done better."

"They've thrown him out of Wyndia."

"I don't doubt it. Everyone was very shocked. If I'd turned out to be the sweet, demure princess my parents wanted me to be, I imagine I'd be too. What a nasty man! Of course, if we were married, a stranger doing that would be fine, and more too. But since we're not, terrible, terrible."

She peered up at Ryu, expecting the same patented disproving look she received on delivery of such pronouncements. Instead, he merely looking thoughtful.

"We don't often have political marriages in Dracon. It's not something I know a lot about. It's as you say, we're ruthless. Though, my mother is more interested in alliances than my father was. Before she took over the throne for him, we rarely treated with enemies, just crushed them. I grew up thinking the same as everyone else, believing that was right. But, I've seen a lot more of the world since then. I've grown to respect my mother a great deal."

If he's hardly a prince, she thought, I'm hardly a princess.

"I need to apologise to you," she said abruptly. "I threatened you yesterday. I shouldn't have done. I thought you were mocking me. I was angry." I wanted to hurt someone, she thought. It didn't matter who. I held it all in for so long, felt absolutely nothing that even anger was a reprieve. I was wrong.

Ryu shook his head, a little wry. "Forget about it. Anger, I understand."

But she carried on: "I'm not a good person. I hurt people, just for the sake of it. I don't even understand why. It's like there's a part inside of me that just wants to wreck everything. When my sister was alive, all I did was hurt her. I adored her, but all I could do was hurt her. Maybe that's what I do to people I love." The words left her mouth without her permission. It was just like before- she couldn't control it. They flowed it in a torrent, but somehow, left behind relief. "So you ought to leave, right now," she said hurriedly, the words sounding manic in her head. "Otherwise I'll do something to you as well. You'll despise me as well." Ryu, however, didn't move. He wore a feeling of feeling of unnatural calmness. "Go!" she said.

Ryu slipped his hand back behind him and leant back, gazing up at the engraved ceiling. "Tell me," he said. "Why did you kiss me before?"

"Why?" she felt the skin between her brows crease. "Why? Why not? Because I wanted to, that's why."

"Is that why you sleep around? Because you want to?"

She felt the heat of anger rise up to her chest. "Yes! Why shouldn't I?" And she threw the words like a dagger at him: "How many people have you slept with? Ten? Twenty? More? All men are the same."

His calmness was almost obscene. It unnerved her. "One," he said quietly.

"One?" she scoffed. "You're barely better than a virgin. Let me guess, did you love her?"

"Yes, I did."

She felt like she was throwing darts at a target that wouldn't stick. It was so frustrating she felt hot tears sting in the corners of her eyes. She swallowed them down like a shot of whisky. It burnt the whole way down.

"To tell the truth though, maybe I just thought I did. Perhaps I really just loved the idea of her. I wonder if I ever really knew her. She definitely never knew me. That's what frightens me. That you can be close to someone, close as skin to skin, without ever really knowing who a person is." Ryu spoke very quietly, as though not to her, but to the darkness. "What is intimacy? Does it really exist?"

Her anger was gone. Instead, she felt a tightness in her throat that was so painful she could hardly breathe.

"I... I've wondered the same thing," she admitted. "I... I didn't know anyone else thought about things like that..."

She cursed herself, for being cruel to him. All he'd done was be kind of her. Again, she wasn't even sure why she'd done it.

Not for the first time, she wondered what was wrong with her.

Chapter Text

"Si-ster."

The girl's voice bounced down the royal corridors like a rubber ball. "Si-ster, come out come out wherever you are."

Deis walked between the two guards, stood alert at their stations: they ignored her.

"I know you're near. I can sense you."

She walked past a door, and then backtracked. Her feet skidded on the stone. Her eyes lit up in delight. "Found you!" she said, pushing the door open.

In the darkness, her eyes slowly adjusted. She saw a small dingy bedroom. She recognised the girl sleeping in the bed: it was this city's princess.

I should have known, Deis thought. She's always had allusions of grandeur!

She approached the sleeping princess, and put her hand over her forehead.

"Myria, speak to me."

The room around her evaporated like ice. When the haze cleared, she found herself in another bedroom. This one was airy, light. Gauze curtains waved dreamily in the wide double doors. In the double bed the princess was still sleeping, but now there was another one too. Almost a carbon copy, lying beside her.

Deis, what do you want? The voice came from the air itself.

The girl put her hands on her hips. "Sister! I'm wounded. You mean there's no way I could convince you I came for some quality bonding time?"

You could try, the voice responded back tartly, or you could save both our time and tell me what it is you really want.

"How long's it been, sis? Twenty-five years?" Deis said. She threw herself back onto the foot of the enormous bed, elbows behind her. She eyed her feet: she noticed that here in Myria's domain, she'd forced Deis to take her true form. The long heavy tail of a snake curled across the bed. "You haven't changed a bit."

Neither have you, said the voice, Myria, in a way that suggested there might be a lot to improve on.

"Still got an attitude problem, I see."

You're still a pest, said Myria.

"Still rude!"

Still obnoxious.

Deis sat up suddenly, in frustration, a retort on her lips. It slided away. She shrugged her shoulders. "Myria, let's not do this. The truth is I came here to apologise."

Apologise? Myria said suspiciously.

"I'm not kidding. The last time we met, we both said some things that we didn't mean..."

I meant them.

"Could you stop that! Let me finish. I said some mean things and later I wished I hadn't. We were born together; we're part of one another. When you think about it it's crazy we should argue like this."

In response, Myria laughed. Her laugh was a little girl's. Deis sat with her hands folded in her lap, and frowned.

"Care to explain what it is that's so funny?"

Sister, you're right; we ought not to argue. Actually, I ought to thank you. It was your cruel taunts that gave me the idea in the first place.

"I'm guessing this idea explains why you've left your cave, and what it is you're doing in this girl's head?"

Now, what was it you said to me those years ago? "I have a body and you don't- that's why no one listens to you! No one likes you. Who could like a big dark blob?"

The impression of her sister was startlingly accurate, and Deis's cheeks burnished themselves pink. She scratched embarrassedly at her face. "I said I was sorry..."

I'm not looking for an apology. After I banished your from my realm I realised you might be right after all.

"-Don't say that. I don't really think you're a big dark blob..."

Quiet. The fact is, only those with bodies in this world are loved and cherished. We were born from the same sacred spring, but you had a body, I didn't. It's not fair. So I'm going to rectify that imbalance.

As Deis let this sink in, she twisted round to look at the princess. "Wait," she said. "Wait. Wait. Wait. You mean...?"

At first I tried to make a body of my own. I failed. I don't have the craft. However, with enough preparation, I might be able to take over another's. I practiced at first with my sibyllae. I found I could enter their minds. They were loyal to me; it was not hard. Taking their spirits over was much more difficult. I needed to completely break them first.

"So why didn't you take one of their bodies, then? What are you doing in Wyndia?"

Me, take a body of a common mortal? Myria scoffed. I shouldn't think so.

Deis knelt back on her hands. She rolled her eyes. "I see. Yes, I guess a princess would be more to your taste."

I heard my sibyllae speak of her. She was young and with the promise of beauty. As a princess, she would one day have hold of a great deal of power. So I sent her dreams, instructing her to come to me.

But in the bed lay two princesses.

A surprise, but a happy one. My own for not paying enough attention to the trivial details of mortals. I recieved two when I asked for one. This one, Nina, I made into my carrier. The other I offered a vision. I made her into my disciple, a role she performed far better than I would have ever imagined.

"Why?" Deis asked. "Why did you choose this one as your carrier?"

Her heart was weaker, Myria said plainly.

"So where is her sister? I scouted the whole palace looking for you, but I only saw one princess."

A grevious mistake. I didn't pay enough attention, and she was murdered in front of my nose. The ace up my sleeve.

"You sound deeply grieved," Deis said sardonically.

I was, if you'll believe me. Even though she was just a mortal, I did feel a fondness for her.

"Hope for you yet, sister!"

Perhaps it all turned out for the best, however. Nina spirit has proven harder than I thought to crack. Her sister's death drove her further to despair. It will only be a short time now till she sucumbs to the darkness.

Deis could feel it now, a kind of haze in the air. Darkness clung to the room like dust in an empty attic. It festered in the corners and unseen places and it even made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

"You've done this?"

I can't plant the seed, only help it grow. She longs for something she can't have, that doesn't and never has existed. I only encouraged that feeling.

"You don't feel guilty, about toying with her emotions?"

Humans, Wyndians, grassrunners: all people are born and then die. Death is the ultimate destination for all living creatures. What does it matter if it happens a few decades earlier than it would have done?

Deis made a noise. She pulled her tail up onto the bed, curling it around herself. "I don't know..." she said.

Deis, we are gods. Mortal beings exist to love us, or fear us. Why you choose to frollick with them in their world, instead of commanding their respect, I don't know...

"Being loved or feared is boring. I find their lives interesting."

Because you're a fool. But then, you always have been.

"There's no need for insults."

You're boring me. Nina will wake soon; I've work to do. Go.

A wide smile stretched across Deis's face. "Maybe I don't want to."

Then I'll show you exactly why you should cultivate more followers. I'm a great deal more powerful than you remember me, sister. For example, I could never have done this before.

It was as though she'd flicked her with her little finger. And yet Deis went sprawling, landing in a pile back in Nina's bedroom. Her real room, not the one in the princess's head.

"Yeowch," she said, rubbing her head. "For once, you're not bluffing."

"Who are you?"

Nina was sat up in bed, staring openly at her.

"Oopsie," said Deis, before she vanished.

*

It was past midnight, but Ryu couldn't sleep. He swung his legs out of bed and for a few moments sat there, listening to the silence and Sevvy's sleep-breathing from the other side of the room. He stood and dressed.

As he pulled the door open it creaked and Sevvy's sleepy voice rose like a ghost. "Ryu, whereya goin'?"

"For a walk. Don't worry. Go back to sleep."

"Kay."

He left the palace and headed into the city, facing several guards who were unhappy to let him out. "My relief's coming in an hour, and if he doesn't know you he's not going to let you in," the guard complained.

"If I can't get in, I'll wait till morning," Ryu said. He recieved several puzzled stares in response. He walked out and left them to it.

The moon was no more than a sliver of silver in the sky, the stars blazing bright pin-pricks. His eyes traced familiar constellations.

Why...? He wondered. Why had he spoken of such things, to her?

He wandered until he found the city's life. Most people were in bed at this hour, but he found a district of a rougher sort where people were still piling out the local drinking-house, closing for the night. They sung to themselves, grabbing one another with friendly clumsy hands when someone stumbled.

Until a man punched someone in the face. The two men went at it well enough they drew a crowd, and even Ryu watched with half-interest.

"Phlylias! Lanpon! You stop that this instant." A woman bravely inserted herself between the brawling men, shoving them apart. "Lanpon, what's your wife gonna say when she knows you've been out fighting again?"

"Ain't none of your business, girl," growled Lanpon, trying to push her aside. The woman shoved him back. Her curly shock of hair and grey-flecked wings looked familiar, and Ryu was startled to realise he knew her. It was Lucille, the whore he'd spoken to on the plaza.

"And Phylias! Shame on you. You know you got a drinking problem, so what you doing out here tonight?"

The crowd joined in, half reluctantly, as though they'd been looking forward to the fight. "Come on Lanpon. Ain't worth it. Leave 'im be." Several other men coerced them away from one another, though they yelled insults all the way down the street at one another as they were taken away.

"When the wimmen aren't here, you're in for it!"

"Shut up, yer sow's ear!"

"Your wife's gonna have to pick up your pieces and put you back to'getha when I'm done with ya!"

Lucille stood and laughed with another girl, the rest of the crowd dispersing around them.

"Wanna go to the Moon Under the Water and look for a guy?"

"Nah. Tonight doesn't feel like a lucky one. Gonna call it," said Lucille.

"Suit yourself."

By chance, she looked up, and her eyes met Ryu's. Her mouth curved into a smile. She turned to her friend.

"Well, maybe it's luckier than I thought," she said.

Laughing and joking, the two girls led Ryu back to their house, arms looped round his, providing no chance of escape.

"I'd no idea our bet would pay off so quickly," said Lucille.

"It must be destiny!" said her friend, short and pretty.

"Like I said, I'm just coming back for a drink," Ryu said.

"What a funny little fish you've caught on your hook, Lucille!" laughed the friend.

"A drink, or two maybe. You don't have anything better to do, do you?"

"Not particularly," he admitted. He let her lead him up the step through the threshold of the brothel. The overpowering smell of smoke and musky incense hit him instantly. He looked through a gauze of smoke at the heavy tapestries and cheap, bright carpets and chaise lounges. A giggle rose like the spout of a geyser and shut off. He thought he could spy, in the haze, a bare arm, an ankle, a lifted leg.

Lucille tugged on his arm, and the scene vanished. The wooden stairs groaned as she half-ran up them, pulling him with her. Her friend pushed him from behind playfully. They piled into a bedroom. Lucille's friend snatched up a skin of wine, and fell down onto the bed, taking a swig from it.

"Suzette! How many sheets have you ruined doing that?"

Suzette stuck her tongue out at her. "Boring!" she said, but with a slow lazy movement like a cat she pushed herself up and lounged down on the couch. Lucille shoved her feet out of the way and sat down beside her, arms hanging over the back.

"Well," she said, eyes glittering, "sit down then."

Ryu sat on the couch opposite. He wondered if he'd made the right choice coming here.

Suzette threw the wine skin at him. "You need to loosen up. Have some of this."

"I know what'll do the trick," said Lucille. From beneath the couch she pulled out a tin box, flipped it open. "My secret hoard," she said with a smile.

"Whoah! Lucille. You said you'd ran out. Liar," said Suzette, suitably impressed looking.

"What is it?" said Ryu. He leant forward. In the box was some ground up brown flakes, like tobacco.

"You'll see," said Lucille. Suzette giggled.

She sprinkled them into the hookah liberally and lit the charcoal. When it was burning right, she handed Ryu the pipe.

"You ever done this before?" Suzette said, an eyebrow raised.

"Sure." Though he didn't recognise the kind of tobacco in the box. He took a drag off the hookah pipe. It tasted good.

"My turn!" said Suzette, eagerly taking the pipe from her, fingers entangling his, taking a long drag. She blew out the smoke in a ring. "Impressive, huh?"

Another girl appeared under the curtain through the threshold. "Hey Suzette, a guy's here for you."

"Damn," said Suzette, thrusting the pipe to Lucille. "Who?"

"Old guy. Got this massive mole on his lip."

"Shit, not mole man."

"The guy who smells like a trough?" enquired Lucille.

"Yeah."

"Have fun," said Lucille.

Grumbling, Suzette stood. "Least he tips well," she said, saying to Lucille, "Hey, save some of that for me."

"No chance," said Lucille. Slogging out, Suzette left.

Ryu looked back to Lucille. She looked utterly relaxed, sprawled back against the couch, neck arched back. She took a drag from the pipe, sighed.

"Why do you do this?" he asked.

"What? Smoke hookah?"

"No. You know what I mean."

A frown crossed the girl's face. She sat up, gazing at Ryu in admonishment. "So you're one of those guys."

"One of those guys who what?"

"Who want to know a working girl's backstory. Then, inevitably, they get pissed off when things get depressing, because they came for a good time. Next you're going to ask about my hopes and dreams."

"Well, do you have any?" he teased her.

"Of course I do. The world can't run without dreams. It definitely can't run without hope."

"So?"

Lucille smiled at him, as though he were a child who just said something cute. She handed him the hookah. "I'm a romantic. Same as half of everyone else. I want a love as bright and shining and as eternal as a diamond. Come to think of it, the diamond would be good too."

"What if you could only have the love or the diamond?"

"Love," she said firmly. "Always take love."

"An eternal love is a hard one to find, though. Love is fickle. It doesn't often last."

"All love is eternal, whether it lasts or not."

"What do you mean?" Ryu asked.

"When I was eight years old a boy kissed me at the back of the temple. I never saw him again. I still think of him, sometimes. The next year another boy bought me a ring. It was cheap and tacky, and I think he stole it, but it meant a lot to me. As long as my heart's still beating I'll remember them, that love will still be eternal."

"Even if you're not with them anymore?"

"Even then," she said, fiercely.

Ryu took another draft. He was beginning to feel incredibly peaceful. "You really are a romantic," he said. She laughed.

"Though you're right. I would like someone to stay with me forever, too. I know know what reality tastes like, that's all."

Ryu lounged back. His mind felt deliciously hazy. Absently, he caught the ends of the thoughts that had kept him awake. The princess. He still didn't understand why he'd spoken about Sarah to her, of all people. She was strange, and she was a liar. There were so many people in this world who pretended to be honest.

So what did it mean that she, from the very beginning, was open in her deceit?

"Zenny for your thoughts," said Lucille.

"All men are selfish and all women are liars."

"Ouch. Sure you're not tarring the feather with your own brush?"

"Hah. Maybe. Are you a liar Lucille?"

"I offer eternity for an evening, fifty zenny a go. Of course I'm a liar."

"But you don't tell your clients that," Ryu said.

"Of course not. But they know, unless they're stupid. They buy into the lie. It's a mutual transaction. Everybody, as they say, wins."

"At the next morning, everybody goes home, their own personal piece of eternity jangling in their pockets."

"Exactly."

"I see."

In a fluid movement, Lucille slipped from her couch to Ryu's. She put a hand on his leg, looked up to him with bright, cloudy eyes. "Shall I show you it?"

"Yes."

She encased her lips in his. The same sweet taste as the hookah. The tobacco had done strange things to his head, made him feel everything twice as strong as it should be. He could taste her smell, smell her taste. She ran her fingers along his neck, marching them up as though she was playing a children's nursery game, sent tingles shooting through him. He tasted her: lips, lopes of her ears, neck, drank from the basin of her collar bone. He helped her out of her dress. It fell around her like white snow on the floor, exposing the flower of her skin, the red rosebuds of her nipples. When she reached to unbutton his tunic, he stopped her.

"No." He led her down onto the couch. She gazed up at him, her long length of body, inviting. He climbed upon her, straddling her hips. He kissed her, sliding his lips down as though he was marking a trail, her neck, breasts, abdomen, beyond...

Ryu woke, several hours later, in the big bed in the centre of the room. He was still fully clothed, a naked Lucille draped over him. She looked, he thought, tired in her sleep. Gently he untangled her from him, the bed groaning as he stepped down. There was a sour taste in his mouth, and he found a pitcher of water on the side and took a long drink. It was clear and cool, and after he felt better.

He gazed down at the girl fondly. It would be an insult to leave her money now, but he wanted to leave her something. He slid off the ring from his finger, and left it by the pitcher for her to find when she woke up.

He exited the brothel to find a world transformed. It was still dark, sunrise still an hour off, but the city had been engulfed in white, thick fog. He could hardly see his hand stretched out in front of him.

It made him remember another night. How long had it been since he last thought about it? He and Sarah, they'd gone to the forest to see the aurora. Finally, he told her how he felt about her. She said she felt the same way. By the time they left, the world had vanished around them. They walked home, her head resting on his shoulder, talking about silly things.

It shrunk the world down. All that existed was he; her. They made furrows in it; it billowed around them- wraiths of curling white mist. It clung to them, stuck to their hair. Damp skin and clothes. Sunday morning before dawn, Ryu thought, you wore the morning mist like a wedding dress.

Was that feeling real? Or had the mist only perpetuated an illusion? Was Lucille right, did they buy into the transaction? Was it a mutual deceit? Even Lucille, thought Ryu, probably wasn't her real name. And, I never gave my own. We offered only the most unimportant part of ourselves: our bodies. Nothing important was smashed. Maybe that's what went wrong with Sarah. She wanted eternity for an instant: he had tried to give her his soul. I would have wrapped it in a bow and given it to her as a present, if she asked. She didn't intend to deceive me. But the mist obscured our real feelings.

The world can't run without dreams.

The mist will clear. And she and I, we're still alive, a couple more memories weighting down our pockets. Soon the sun will come and banish the fog, and the sunrise will be beautiful.

Ryu wanted more than anything to see it.

Chapter Text

There was no guard, either at the bottom of the tower or at the entrance to the Queen's chambers. Which relieved Drypetis as much as it made her heart pound with anxiety. She'd made a bet with herself, earlier, that if the Queen had no guard, she'd go and speak with her. Mainly, because she didn't want anyone to watch and secretly laugh at her while she stood outside, dithering.

Drypetis pressed her hands flat against her thighs to try and still the shaking. It didn't help. She knocked anyway.

"Yes?" Queen Rosetta's voice responded tartly.

"Your Highness.. It- it's me, Drypetis. Can- can I come in?" as she spoke, she cringed to herself at how weak and pathetic her voice sounded.

"Come in."

Drypetis opened the door, and for a moment, she couldn't see the her. It took her eyes some time to register that the brown shape sat by the balcony door was Queen Rosetta. She was wearing a dull dress, head lent over her embroidery. The sunlight filtering through the window highlighted the grey streaks in her hair.

"Drypetis, this is a surprise. You haven't been to visit me in some time."

"I... uh, yes... um..."

"Don't worry yourself. You're not the only one." She looked up from her embroidery, setting the hoop down gracefully on her lap. She pointed to a silk brocade stool by the dressing table. "Get that and come sit with me."

She fetched the stool and sat beside the Queen, the apprehensive feeling in her stomach expanding like a balloon.

As though she was reciting old words for a play she'd had memorised for years, the Queen began: How was her father? Her mother? Was she well? Had she heard from her cousins recently? Were they well? Drypetis replied that yes, yes, yes, everyone was well, thinking to herself that actually her cousin Stefan was still drinking himself to an early grave and her father had fired three servants in a rage earlier that morning because the cook burned his toast. But, then again, that wasn't really what the Queen was asking about, after all.

This routine down, the Queen seemed to settle back in her chair, more at ease. Drypetis looked over at the embroidery in her lap. She'd done the Wyndian emblem, and for good measure, had begun surrounding it with several golden roses.

"Are you keeping up your needlework, Drypetis?" she asked, seeing her look.

She flushed. "You know I was never any good at it, your Majesty..."

"All the more reason to keep at it."

"Ah, yes, maybe you're right."

To her terror, the Queen handed it her the hoop. "That's the spirit. I'll let you finish the roses on this one. Just follow the lines I've started."

"Your Majesty... I couldn't..."

"Come now. Don't be shy. I don't mind."

Drypetis stared down at the piece of cloth, the world around her shrinking into white noise. How had she got into this? How could she get out of it? She was going to completely ruin the Queen's handiwork!

Her hands shook harder than ever. She tried to still them as best as she could and follow the Queen's lines.

The Queen, thankfully, was looking away, gazing out onto the balcony. "How are you enjoying the tournament, Drypetis?" she said.

Impossible, to embroider in a straight line and try to gauge the Queen's tone for an appropriate response. "Ah yes, it's- it's good," she said.

"Do you think so?"

"Uh..."

"I've been told people are picking favourites now. Do you have one?"

Well, there had been Prince Jaden, but he was gone now, thanks to her. She turned pinker than ever, hunching down over the cloth. "N-not really," she said.

"Did you know, a similar tournament was held for the hand of my great grandmother? Your great-great grandmother?"

"I did your Highness..."

"Of course, it was nothing compared to this. It's a great honour for Wyndia. They'll be talking about Wyndia and my daughter for decades after this. She should hold her head high."

Drypetis concentrated on her stitches. The Queen was silent.

She bit her lip. However was she going to broach the subject? Your Majesty, the King's mistress is planning on replacing you. Even the words in her head sounded moronic. She needed to make an opening...

"Um, your Highness, you know my friend Kleopatra..."

She glanced up from the cloth to see the Queen's mouth bolted down in a tight line. "Yes," she said, in so hard a tone a stab of anxiety hit Drypetis square in the chest. Of course. The Queen liked to pretend her rival and rival's children didn't exist. In fact, she wasn't sure if she'd even ever heard the Queen say their names.

Why did she have to be the one to do this?

"W-well... I was talking to her the other day, and she said, um. About Alexon and her, she said the King... the King's going to. I mean, he's planning to-"

"Drypetis."

She stopped dead. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "Yes?"

The Queen pointed to the cloth, Drypetis' appalling mess of stitching. Her voice was hard: "You've ruined it."

The door closed behind her, and she fell back against the wall, her breath catching. She didn't know which she was more: miserable, or relieved to be out of there.

She could almost hear her father's words in her ear: You've messed up again, Drypetis. Can't you do anything right?

She relived the conversation with the Queen again in her head, wincing to herself as she did so. She pushed it from her mind. She'd tried, right? She'd tried to say something. It wasn't her fault.

She headed down the spiral stairs, quickly, trying to outrace her tumbling thoughts. She walked so quickly without watching where she was going that she hit something- or rather, somebody, hard. Grabbing hold of the stone railing with both hands she gasped, "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

It was Princess Nina she'd run into. She was crouched down on the stairs, with one hand clutching the railing, the other she held to her forehead. She must have knocked her head into the wall, Drypetis realised.

"Nina, I'm really sorry," she said, crouching beside her, offering a hand- she wasn't quite sure for what. "Are- are you okay?"

The princess pushed the hand away, and rose to her feet. "I'm fine." She winced, and dropped her hand from her forehead, glancing up at Drypetis. Then her eyes drifted up the staircase. She said, "Did you visit my mother?"

"Y-yes, I did." She felt so embarrassed she wanted to go hide somewhere. Why did Nina want to talk to her anywhere? Nina never spoke to her.

"Surprised the shock didn't kill her." She spoke quite wryly, looking not at her, but up at the staircase. Nina rarely looked at anyone when she spoke to them. Maybe only Drypetis noticed because she'd spent her whole life trying to avoid other people's eyes, herself.

"Are you going to see her?"

Nina nodded. Said, "She asked for me," as though it was a disclaimer.

When the princess didn't say her goodbyes and walk straight away, Drypetis wondered what to do. She was touching her forehead, no doubt where a bruise was already forming under the skin. Drypetis should say something.

"Are- are you enjoying the tournament?" she said. Nina smiled to herself, readjusting her hair.

"Not particularly. Are you?"

Immediately, Drypetis wished she'd never asked, or even started this conversation.

"Ah, not that much, really..."

"Really? I thought it'd be your thing."

"Um..." she said.

"Lots of good looking guys in the palace, for a change," Nina said. Straight away, she flushed. Was she trying to say something? Had, somehow, she found out about Jaden?

"Are... are you rooting for any of the suitors?" she said quickly.

Nina shrugged. She gazed at a spot above her head. "Why bother? It's not like I get a choice either way."

Quite suddenly, and quite puzzlingly, Drypetis felt for her cousin. The feeling took her completely by surprise. Though they'd grown up together, they'd never been friends, and in the last few years had barely even spoke to one another. She'd not expected to feel empathy, just as, no doubt, Nina did not expect to receive it.

She said, "We will miss you when you're not here, Nina..."

When Nina's eyes met hers, it was like a jolt of electricity ran through her. They were cold, hard, like two river stones.

"Liar," Nina said.

*

"King Philip, I hoped to have the chance to speak to you."

The evening festivities were once again, full swing in the hall. The candles were lit, plates piled high, musicians playing. A space had been cleared in the centre of the room: tonight, Philip was hosting one of of Wyndia's famous dance parties.

Locke approached Philip at the high table. Philip, whose cheeks were pink with wine patted the space down next to him on the long couch.

"Yes. Yes. Join me. Do. You're Locke, Brynhildr's son, aren't you? Call me Philip." As Locke sat, Philip peered at him, his eyes looking rather glazed. "Yes, I remember you. You came to Wyndia with Brynhildr, didn't you?"

"Quite a few years ago now."

"Oh? And are you enjoying being back in Wyndia? Must bring back memories."

"It does. And it's a beautiful city." Philip nodded appreciatively. The words didn't mean much: they were just form. But all the same, form must be abided by. Squinting his eyes, he stared harder at Locke.

"Nasty scar. Where's it from?"

A serving girl approached, and offered a basket of honey-coloured apples. Locke took one, and took a bite. "Training accident," he said. And he held up the apple to the King. "Have you tried one of these Philip? They're very good."

"They're from our orchard, sire," said the girl. "Would you care for one?"

Philip waved the basket away in displeasure. "Apples? What do I want with apples? Get more more wine, girl."

Locke watched as the girl vanished, as though she'd never been there. Then another servant was by his side, filling Philip's goblet. "Better. Much better. I don't want to see this glass empty tonight, you hear me?"

Locke's eyes roamed over the high table. Sat not far down was a young boy he knew now as Philip's bastard son. He couldn't be more than ten years old. He slouched in his seat, looking deathly bored. Beside him was the boy's mother, a string of sparkling jewels around her neck. She saw him looking, and smiled at him. Locke nodded back at her.

He was suprised however, when she stood from her seat and came and joined them, sitting by Philip's side and placing a possessive hand on his knee.

Well, things really had changed in Wyndia.

"Introduce us, darling," she said to Philip. "I want to meet your charming companion."

"My name's Locke, Madam," he said. Reaching across the King, she held out a hand for him. Obligingly, he kissed it.

"Eurydyke. Charmed," she said. "Where is you're from?"

"Dracon, to the north. You've heard of it?"

"Have I? They used to tell tales about it when I was a child. Incredible. You look so much like an ordinary man."

Having come upon this attitude more than once, Locke smiled patiently.

"If you wanted to, could you turn into a dragon right here?" she asked.

Philip boomed with laughter. "Woman! You're too much. He'd take the roof down with him."

Eurydyke raised a hand to her mouth, mock hurt. "Why, Philip. You know I was being hypothetical."

She moved in closer, to whisper something into his ear, a casual, intimate movement. Philip chuckled, a deep sound from the base of his chest. He downed the rest of his wine and called for more.

"I know why you looked familiar now. I recognise your brothers in you. Your family is doing well in the tournament, isn't it?" She interjected herself, " - What are your brothers' names again?"

"Sevvy's the youngest. Ryu's a few years younger than me." He wondered how long the King intended to let her sit by his side. He came to speak with Philip, not his mistress.

"Yes, that was it. Your brother Ryu, particularly. The resemblance is uncanny." This wasn't the first time someone had noted this to him. Locke saw it himself, more and more as Freyja got older, continuing to act and dress as she did. And the resemblance never failed to disturb him each time it appeared.

Locke was brought back to the party, as Eurydyke enquired, "Don't you think so Philip?"

Philip, in the middle of taking a drink, was too busy to answer.

"With all that said," she went on, "I- ah." Her head turned. Her daughter Kleopatra was making her way through the crowd to the next table with a friend, a pretty pale awkward girl. "I better go. I need to have a word with Kleo." She kissed Philip on the side of the mouth and left them alone. By this time, Philip was looking distinctly purple. He was shaking his head, almost in slow motion.

"Women," he said. Locke wondered how long he'd had a drinking problem.

"Though... she's got a point. Your brothers are both in the finals. Don't you think you're letting the side down?" he said, grinning. "My daughter not good enough for you?"

"You got me. I'll speak frankly. As lovely as your daughter as, I'm not here for her hand. I already have a wife." And, did he miss her. There had been times over the past weeks when he was on the verge of walking out. He reminded himself of the political importance of his presence. Though, at times, he felt more like he was babysitting his siblings. He kept the facade of calm up, but he was in constant worry. So much could go wrong. Sevvy just being Sevvy, seducing the daughter or an important house- and Freyja... he didn't even want to think about that.

"Any children?" Philip asked.

"Three daughters. Very young. The twins are just under a year."

"Hah! Good luck. You're going to need it."

"We've another on the way, as well." A smile crept onto his face. He kept being told he talked too much about his girls. Well, so what? They were his.

"You crazy man!" said Philip. "You've got to put it away."

"We want to have a large family." He hadn't, at first. He'd never even thought about children. But after Meriaten was born, seeing her tiny perfect little hands and feet, he thought he would mind having half a dozen. He missed them, now, wondering if Astrid and Salla were starting to crawl without him.

The King shook his head. "Two were plenty for me. And girls! Too much trouble. Mine caused so much mischief my sister, their nanny, moved to Rhapala. They used to drive her mad." Although he complained, a smile rose to his face as he gazed into the past. "She used to come to me, complaining Nina had got into the pond and ruined her clothes, and, of course, Christina had got into after her. They insisted on doing everything together. Though of course, things are different now. Christina's very involved with the temple, and..."

Locke listened, with widening eyes, waiting for it to hit Philip. When it did, he simply said, "Right." His words trailed off. He stared at his wine, as though he wondered what he was doing with it.

"Philip, I'm sorry. Please accept my condolences. Her death came as a huge shock to us all." As he said the words, he felt that they lost their meaning as soon as they left his tongue. What did such words even mean? How were condolences meant to help anyone? They didn't help him, when his sister and father were killed, and he had to step up as the man of his house.

There was a stirring in the crowd. He looked up to see Princess Nina's gold head of hair, as a servant led her up to the table. She chose a couch and sat on her own, staring out into the crowd.

Locke thought, she understands. You grieve alone, in silence. Words mean nothing. They're ash, dust.

In one violent motion, Philip tipped the entire contents of the goblet down his throat. Far too loudly, he called for another one. One of the suitors approached Nina and Locke saw him ask her for a dance. She shook her head. More of them came. One by one they asked for her hand to dance, and one by one she turned them down.

The King had drunk far too much. He was gazing at his daughter in open resentment.

"The wrong one," he said. "The wrong one died."

"You don't mean it, Philip," said Locke, all the while thinking, he does. He could see it in his eyes.

"You wait," Philip said. "They're sweet enough as little babes. But they grow up. They resent you. They refuse to obey you. They-"

With a start, Locke recognised the suitor stepping up to speak to Nina. It was Freyja. But what in the world was the girl doing?

Philip snorted. "Good luck. She won't dance with him. She's never done what's expected of her. She-" The King went silent. Locke, too, sat and stared. Freyja had offered Nina her hand, and she took it.

*

"Why?" Nina said. "Why do you want to dance with me?"

Ryu took the Princess's hand and helped her to her feet. He was aware that more than one person was staring. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure myself," he said. "I just want to, I guess."

"You guess?" she was smiling. "How unromantic."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Romanticism is for fools," said Ryu.

"You've no poetry in the soul?"

He led her out onto a space on the floor. Other couples moved out of the way for them, others stared.

"Poetry in the soul. Empty words. When it comes down to it, what do they mean?"

"Most words don't mean much, when it comes down to it," Ryu said. "Yet we say them anyway."

"Why?" she asked. "Everyone's so afraid of uncomfortable silences. What do we find so comforting about all the noise?"

"Who knows," he said softly.

"So you've no answers either."

"The only answer I've come to in my twenty two years is that people, and their logic, are ridiculous."

Nina laughed, a sweet sound.

"I've an admission to make," Ryu said. "I actually have no idea how you do this dance."

"And yet you asked me? How audacious!" and yet the smile she wore like a rosette showed she was anything but offended. "I've an admission of my own. I'm probably the least graceful Wyndian princess who ever lived."

"And yet, you still said yes. Why?"

"Why? Maybe I just wanted to, I guess." They were stood, static in the middle of the floor, an immobile cog. The room twirled around them. Slowly, Ryu started to smile.

The thought came to him: What a marvellous girl.

"Well," he said, "this is going to be good fun, isn't it?" He held out his hand and Nina clasped it: it was very hot and soft.

He was aware by now that at least the half of the room was staring at him and the Princess. Somehow, however, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. It was almost the same feeling as when he fought; a sense of wild elation took of him by the hand.

Nina clasped hold of his other arm, and hoisted it around her waist. He let her lead; she twirled him around, following no set steps. Other dancers stepped back to make room, she twirled him around so vigorously they almost knocked a duke and his partner over. As they span, the room swirled round, a mass of colours and lights. They beamed at one another.

Quite suddenly, the song ended. The players put their instruments down. A flash of blue caught Ryu's eye, and he noticed that Locke was sat with the King. He was looking unsufferably sullen. Ryu smiled at him, exposing his teeth.

"Pardon me to intrude, sir." Ryu's head turned back. One of the suitors, a mousy looking gentleman took hold of Nina's hand. "Princess, could I please have the honour of this next dance?"

Nina slid her hand from the man's grasp. She caught Ryu's eye.. "Pardon yourself sir," he said, slipping his hand around Nina's waist. "The Princess already has a dance partner for the night."

That moment, the players begun again, a cheerful, lilting tune, and away they went.

As Nina and Ryu twirled each other round, woefully out of step, not even in the correct style, stepping in everyone else's way, Locke and the King sat, stared. Each, for his own reason, shocked into silence.

"Locke," the King said. "What did you say your brother's name was again?"

Chapter Text

Fresh and early the next morning, Nina strode down the stairs to the underground area, where the wine cellars were kept, and the palace kitchens. The huge kitchen was bustling with chefs and steam, hot from a dozen ovens as the cooks baked the bread for the day, prepared that morning's breakfast for the dozens of noble lords and ladies. She descended into the heat and the noise, pots and pans crashing, frying pans popping as half a dozen eggs sizzled on the hob. Voices were calling:

"Eugene, I need those lobsters done, five minutes ago."

"Aye, boss!"

"Quick! Quick! Quick! I want those baguettes out of the ovens. Don't keep the King waiting!"

"Yes boss!"

Like the conductor of an orchestra, Tony, a frogman from Aqua and renowned chef, ruled over the kitchen. On his orders the bread was baked, the bacon was seared to perfection and fresh fruit diced and sliced.

Nina sat down on the stairs and made herself invisible. Arms looped over her knees like a child's hoop, she watched as the food was sent out, floating past her on silver platters. The roar in the kitchen died down, and Nina headed down. Tony was instructing two young apprentices in the minutiae of some dish.

"You must wait till it is completely caramelised before you turn down the heat. See!"

"But boss, what happens if you don't?" inquired one of the young apprentices.

"Idiot! No good," exploded Tony, making the apprentice start back. "Completely ruined!"

"...Tony?" the word left her mouth tentatively, drifting like a cloud.

"Idiot! Can you not see I'm bus-" However, as he whipped round, the words fell from his mouth. "Nina! Mon cherie!" The apprentices, jaws slack, ducked into deep bows. Tony rushed forward and clutched her hand, placing two fond kisses on each cheek. "How long has it been since you last visited us? You make me wonder if you had not given up on noble art of cooking."

"Sorry, Tony," she said.

"And soon you are getting married! We wondered if you would even say goodbye."

She said, "I know."

Tony, always perceptive, must have picked up straight her away her drooping smile, and he said, "No matter! Come, dear, come. You- Euguene, clear a space for the princess." The gobmacked apprentice quickly moved the trays from the bench, where the staff came to eat, to make space for her.

"So what can we do for you, dear Nina? Whip you up your favourite apple tart? Maybe some fresh rasin bread?"

When she and Christina were little, they would often sneak down to the kitchens and ask the cooks for extra snacks, who would, indulgently, oblige. When they got older, Nina started coming on her own. She'd got to know some of the cooks quite well. They'd even shown her how to cook- which would have shocked her parents, if she'd been stupid enough to tell them.

Though for the last six months, she hadn't much spoken to anyone.

"Actually," said Nina, "I came to ask your help about something else." She opened the napsack she had with her, full of the stubs of her old candles, and told Tony about Ryu's idea.

One of the young apprentices, a boy of perhaps fifteen, who she hadn't met before said, "Surely the master of the inventory can give you as many as you want." Tony shot him a look, and he quieted.

"Undoubtedly he could, but.. I just thought it was a waste when there's so much good wax left."

She was aware of the ridiculousness of her words as soon as they left her mouth. A princess wasn't supposed to care about waste. She'd seen all the uneaten food being thrown out, the beautiful table cloths replaced when they weren't more than a year old. Nina wasn't as sheltered as her parents wanted her to be. She'd left the palace: she knew how people lived, outside the walls.

But Tony's smile just brightened. "Your companion is very sensible! We use his technique very often in the winter, when we run out of allocated candles. I can show you an interesting trick my wife uses, too. Do you use any scented oils?"

Nina replied that yes, of course, there was a whole shelf in the bathroom. Soon, she ran off to go fetch them, and Tony showed her how to chop the candles up into chips before they melted them in a pan. Carefully, she poured the hot wax into tin moulds they used for some kind of cake. The wicks they made from string dipped into the boiling wax.

"And this is my special technique! Observe!" and Tony tied the end of the string to a ladel, and balanced it horizontally over the mould.

There was a lot more wax left over than she thought, and she and Tony experimented with her scented oils, and Nina discovered she could make candles that smelled like sweet strawberries and honey melon. Just the smell rising from the heated pan made her mouth water.

"We should do some more!" she said. Someone found spare cheap candles and they melted them down. The apprentices, nervous at first around Nina, lost their shyness and eagerly suggesting fragrances. Together they discovered that cocoa butter and lemongrass wasn't a great combination, but lilac and lily smelled lovely.

Suddenly Nina discovered they were pulling a crowd. Other kitchen staff had returned from serving and tidy up duties and gathered around, suggesting things and peering over. Someone brought a bunch of roses from the garden and a girl covered in flour handed her bottles of food colouring, and soon she had pink candles with roses petals that smelled like roses.

"Hey, hey, Nina, what about this one?" called Tom, a baker boy. "Buttercream and sandalwood. Mmmnn!"

"I think I'll let you have that one, Tom," said Nina, laughing.

And there was a murmur going around the crowd drawn. It said, "Our princess is back!"

*

Why did they have to ask her?

Zilpah looked in the Princess's room, the garden and the tomb; all the usual places Nina went to. But she couldn't find her anywhere. Not that she wanted to be looking for Nina in the first place. She'd just happened to be with Eurydyke, or "Mistress," she must now call her, doing her manicure when the King arrived.

"Sir," she called to the guard on duty at the courtyard, "have you seen the Princess?"

"She passed this way a short while ago, Madam. She looked like she was heading for the kitchens."

The kitchens! Her predecessor warned her the princess would always sneak down there. Not that she ever had, in the few months she was in Nina's service. She'd been assigned to the Princess's comfort a short while after her sister's death. It'd taken her some weeks to even coerce her from her bed. The princess was a strange one, but Zilpah missed her now. Eurydyke was such a slaver-driver! And the audacity the woman had! She was a common woman, the same as herself, and yet in private insisted they all address her as "the Queen."

Zilpah headed down the stairs into the heat of the kitchen, and there she had a surprise.

She didn't recognise the princess at first, because the girl that looked like the princess was laughing.

Nina was lent over by one of the stoves, surrounded by the kitchen staff and a bubble of friendly chatter and laughter. How long had it been since Nina last laughed, genuinely? In the time she'd known her, had she ever?

"Princess," she called. Nina's head bobbed up from among the crowd, the last of a laugh lingering on her face.

"Zilpah?" she asked.

"Princess, your father has summoned you."

It happened just like that. The smile on Nina's face hung on for a moment, the same way a chicken will still run, some seconds after you've decapitated him. When it faded, it was like it'd never been there at all.

"Okay," she said.

Zilpah led Nina up the stairs to the King's room. The silence that hung between them was heavy as a tapestry, old and full of dust.

"How are you enjoying Eurydyke's employ?" Nina asked her.

"She is a kind mistress," said Zilpah.

What Nina didn't say was, You're lying.

What Zilpah didn't say was, Of course.

Zilpah thought that, if fate had been a little kinder and circumstances were different, the two of them might have been friends. But then all things, she believed, came down to fate.

Sometimes, it made her wonder why she even opened her eyes in the morning.

*

Nina entered her father's study, and Zilpah left them, closing the heavy doors behind her.

She felt almost nostalgic. How many times in her life had she been summoned here, to approach her father in his armchair by the fireplace, her grandfather staring down from his painting? Though he'd supposedly been a kindly man, Nina always felt the expression painted on his face seemed to judge the person striding through those double doors. And usually, that was her. After all, he only ever called people to his study when he was angry with them.

Once, Nina would have strode through those doors with a casual, "What?" Being rebellious had been fun, back then. She'd enjoyed the looks of shock she'd seen on people's faces, when they saw the way she spoke to the King.

But Nina felt tired. She felt a weariness that went down to her bones. This scene had been played out far too many times, she thought. It was boring.

"You summoned me, Father?" she said.

"Nina. Sit down with me."

Nina took the chair opposite his. She gazed at a patch of space just off her father's left shoulder.

"I want to talk to you about the tournament."

She said nothing. He carried on.

"The suitors. How do you think about them?"

A group of arrogant strangers parading around trying to demonstrate how large their cocks are. I'm as much as a prize as a bride to them.

"I don't particularly feel anything," she said. Both, she supposed, were true.

"Are there any..." The King shifted in his seat. Nina raised her eyes to her father. Was she wrong, or did he look the slightest bit uncomfortable? He continued- "Is there any that take your fancy?"

Take her fancy? Nina felt the quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth. No wonder the King looked uncomfortable. She never talked to her father about boys.

Apart from, she supposed, that one time at dinner he'd thrown a pudding bowl at her and called her a harlot. But that was neither here nor there.

"All I've learnt about them over the past week is how far they can chuck a spear and whether or not they can hit a target. Whether or not they'll be any good as husbands, or friends, or lovers, I've no idea." The last part, she couldn't help herself. But for once, her father ignored it.

"What of the prince from Dracon, then?" he said. "You looked like you were having a good enough time last night." More than a touch of scorn and disdain. Nina took a leaf from his book, and ignored it.

Ryu. What did she think about him? When it came down to it, he was exactly the same as the rest of them. He was here to win her. Not even her- just the Princess of Wyndia.

And yet there was something different about him. He didn't feel the need to fill the air of with flattery and politeness and noise. He was from an entirely different world from her own. His soul was quiet.

And, perhaps more than anything else, Christina had liked him well enough to talk honestly to him.

Though there was no way she could say any of this to her father. He had been, for too many years, The Enemy.

"I don't have much of an opinion either way," she said.

The King made a noise of disbelief. He knew she was lying, but what could he do about it?

"Do I have permission to go, Father?" she said, half rising.

"No you do not," he snapped. "I'm not finished yet girl."

She sunk back down, gazing petulantly at his shoes.

"Now listen. I know that's hard for you, but it's about time you learnt. You're a princess, for God's sake... I've something to tell you. When all the winners of the Games have been chosen, there's going to be one last game to decide to decide the champion."

Nina continued staring blindly, utterly uninterested. "So what?"

"So you're going to choose the final challenge for the champions. That's what."

I'm... I'm going to choose?

Her eyes left the floor. They rose up. She gazed at her father with her brow knotted in confusion.

"Why?" she asked.

The King bristled, the way he did when anyone questioned him. "Why? Because this is your future husband. I thought you would have at least a slight interest in choosing him."

By choosing the challenge, she considered, she could almost certainly engineer the winner. Choose an archery contest, she would ensure Lord Arryn emerged the victor. Choose the rowing race and Prince Edward would win. A sword-fighting challenge, and she would be Ryu's bride.

But, that still didn't get rid of the question of why.

"Don't look at me like that," the King barked. "I thought you would be happy about this."

Was he, for the first time in forever, considering her feelings...?

Her hands tightened on the folds of her dress. Such unfamiliar sensations in her heart. "Father... please," she said. "I... I don't want to leave Wyndia."

"Nina..." A tone of warning.

"This is my home. How can I leave it all behind? Leave Christina?"

At his other daughter's name, the aggression in his shoulders seemed to relax. When he wasn't angry, even bloated with food and drink, her father looked like a completely different man.

Instead of shouting, or barking, he spoke: "She would have made the most perfect queen."

"She would have," said Nina.

It struck her. Since Christina died, they had not spoke of her to one another. Not once.

Maybe, she thought wildly, there was still a chance. They could still fix this. Even if they couldn't be friends, maybe they could stop being enemies. What good was this hate between father and daughter? Between kin?

"The people loved her," she said.

"They adored her," said her father.

"Since... since she's been gone... I don't know how to feel."

"Neither do I," he admitted.

"Father... all of this, the tournament, choosing a husband... it's too soon. All I can think about is her. If... if it could all wait... at least until she's interred, I mean... then-"

But, it was no good. Nina could see it as it came- the King tensed, as though preparing for battle.

And that brief moment of understanding vanished, like an illusion.

"You're getting married. I thought I made it clear you didn't have a choice in this."

"Father- if you would just see this, from my point of view-"

"I won't have disobedience. Not in this house, from my own daughter."

"If you would just-"

"I won't tolerate-"

"Listen!"

Father and daughter stared at one another, breathing as hard as though they'd run a race. Nina's hands curled tight into her palms, tight enough to draw blood.

"May I have permission to leave?" she said, voice taut.

"Get out of my sight," spat the King.

Nina stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind her extra hard. It was childish, but satisfying.

How could she be anything but a child, when her father refused to treat her as an adult?

*

Nina barrelled through the palace, unaware of where she was going, only that, one foot in front of the other, she had to keep moving.

You really thought, didn't you, that things might change?

I need to get out of here, she thought. Where, she didn't know. She wanted to escape out of her own skin.

You fool. If he gave you a choice, it's probably because it's convention. He despises you as much as he ever did.

I'm not going to talk to you, she thought. You're not real. You're nothing.

Like that boy, Ryu. You think he's interested in you? All he's interested in his your title!

She hurried down the kitchens, past the cooks that called hellos. She ignored them, rushing blindly for the back kitchen gate.

To see the new guard posted there, learnt against the wall, watching her warily.

She spun round, pounding back up the stairs. No matter. There were other doors she could try.

Do you think things would get better if you married him? As soon as he got bored of your pretty face, he'd throw you away, just like everybody else.

No! Thought Nina. You're wrong. He's not the same as everybody else here. He's from the north. He's wild. He's just the same as me: he just wants to be free.

The scullery door! Unguarded! Nina grabbed the doorknob and pulled.

But it would not budge.

Too late, she noticed the chain and padlock.

You really think you can be free?

They'd caught onto her. And if they'd barred these doors, the gate at the courtyard would be locked too.

She felt trapped, her muscles taut under her skin. She was an animal frightened and restless, ready to pounce at an exit, a person.

"...Princess Nina?"

She whipped round. Ryu was stood in the corridor, looking alarmed. "Are you alright?" he said.

"I..." She realised how demented she must look. "I... no...no," she said.

An enormous effort, just to put herself back together. Unclench her hands, try and loosen her tight shoulders. Swallow the scream that wanted to rip from her lungs.

He took a few steps towards her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"They've locked the doors," she said.

"The doors?"

"To the city. I... used to use them, this and the doors in the servants quarters so I could sneak out. But they've caught onto me."

Why was she telling him this?

"Wait." When most backed away from her, he took another step forward. "Are you saying you're not allowed to leave the palace?"

Defensively; "I know, but I have to-"

"I didn't mean it like that," Ryu interjected. "You mean, you're physically not allowed?"

"Well, no."

"But you're this city's princess," he said.

"Yes, exactly."

Nina looked at him. She didn't understand what he was getting at. When he shook his head and laughed wryly, she glared at him.

"I don't see what's so funny about it."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that I think we've had what they call a 'cultural clash.'"

"A what now?" she said.

"I had no idea you wouldn't be allowed to leave. Even as a child in Dracon, I was allowed to wander where I pleased."

"Yes," said Nina, pointing out: "but you're a prince, not a princess. That's different."

Ryu put his hands in his pockets.

"When it comes to things like gender... we don't have such strict rules in Dracon," he said. "Not that I had any clue about that until I came here."

Imagine that, Nina thought. Growing up and being able to go where she pleased, without an escort.

If she'd been born a princess of Dracon, her life might have turned out completely different.

Ryu picked up the lock on the door and examined it.

"They've locked all the doors?" he said.

"Or posted a guard on them," she said.

He dropped the heavy lock. It banged against the wooden door.

"We'll have to think of another way then, won't we?" he said.

"We?" She tossed the word out like a stone into the pond. His hands back in his pockets, Ryu wandered away down the corridor.

"You coming, or not?" he said, the corners of his mouth curling coyly.

Nina hesitated, laughed, and hurried after him.

They found an empty bathroom at the end of a quiet corridor. There Ryu said, "You should probably wait here."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I need to get some things. I won't be long."

"You're not going to tell me the plan?"

"All good things, all good things," Ryu said.

"Alright," she said, sitting back on the edge of the tiled bathtub with a smile. "Don't keep your princess waiting, then."

Five minutes later, he returned, a bundle of clothing under his arm.

"What's that?"

He flapped out the material. It fell loose from its folds.

"...A man's tunic?" she said. Before exclaiming, "Oh!"

"If they saw me leaving the palace with another man, they'd never suspect it was their own princess."

Nina nodded in agreement. What her father would say to her if they caught her in men's clothing! Not just a slut, but a pervert, too! She imagined the king's face as they told him.

"Let's do it," she said.

Ryy handed her the clothes; a white, knee-length tunic edged with patterns. Well-made. A pair of sandals. And, also a long length of what Nina thought were bandages.

"What are these?"

"You can use them to bind your chest," said Ryu.

"To bind my... that's a good idea. How did you think of that?"

Another wry, if distant smile.

"Must be ingenuity," he said.

An idea struck Nina. She squinted at Ryu with coy suspicion. "This isn't some devilish ploy to get me out of my clothes, is it?"

Ryu's eyebrows were up somewhere in his hairline. Then shock turned into offence. "What do you take me for?" he demanded.

Surprise, at the violence of his reaction.

"I wasn't being serious," she said.

"I would never, ever do something like that." He shook his head, vehemently.

"I believe you. I'm sorry if I offended you, alright?"

But his feathers were still more than a little ruffled.

"I'll be in the next room. Let me know when you've finished." He brushed under the beaded parting into the adjoining powder room. Then silence.

"Ryu?"

No reply. Nina picked up the tunic and examined it, running her thumb along the stitching. It wasn't Wyndian work. And by the quality, it was probably one of his own.

"I'm pretty certain this is what you mentioned before." She removed her woven belt and let it fall to the ground in a long snake. Her chiton she unwound from around her. "A 'cultural clash.'" She picked up the bindings and wondered how best to wrap it round her. "It's not that I question your integrity, or your honour. But I've been brought up taught that men are like wild dogs. Although I know that's not true. And if men are animals, they're no more so than women. Nevertheless, if I'm undressed, alone, with a man and if something happens to me, it's my own responsibility. And I'm the one to blame. Because if you put out fresh meat in a room with a hungry wolf, whose fault is it if it gets eaten?"

She fumbled the bindings. She couldn't get them to stay. The wings weren't helping.

"Ryu?" she called. "I can't do these bandages. Can you come help me?"

Silence, and then, "And invite a wild dog into the room?"

She stood, defiant in her nakedness.

"I am no one's meat."

Ryu appeared through the beads. The anger was gone from him. Instead, an immense sadness in his eyes.

"You should have been born a princess of Dracon," he said. He didn't look at her body, only her eyes. She shivered under those sad eyes.

He tied the bindings for her with a certain deftness, apologising when he accidently brushed her. Bindings done, she looked as flat as a boy. She pulled the tunic over her head and did up the sandals. But when she looked into the polished glass mirror, she saw what Ryu must see; "A woman playing pretend," she said, in frustration.

"It's your hair," said Ryu. It was knotted up above her hair, secured with a dozen bobby pins. "You need to wear it loose."

Nina paused. Maybe this was another cultural clash.

"In Wyndia," she explained, "ladies never wear their hair loose. Apart from around their husbands. Never in public."

Nina watched their reflections in the mirror. Watched Ryu say, "It's a good thing then that today, you're not a lady."

Heh!

She nodded. And watched the girl in the mirror slide out the pins one by one and her hair tumble down around her, and become someone new entirely.

Chapter Text

Locke sat in a pool of sunshine on the chaise lounge in the brothers' quarters, rolling the quill in his hand. Dipping it thoughtfully it into the inkwell, he began to write.

Mother, I hope you are well. I'm writing to update you of the events here in Wyndia, as you previously requested. The tournament is drawing towards its conclusion, and

His quill paused when the door cracked open. Locke looked up to see Sevvy creeping in, wearing oversized clothes that obviously weren't his. He peered around, apparently didn't see Locke from behind the huge patterned vase in the middle of the room, and started to pull the door up silently behind him.

"Sevvy. I'm right here," Locke sighed, setting his quill down.

His brother started so hard Locke thought he might jump a mile in the air.

"Oh! Locke- fancy meeting you here..." he said, elbows up behind his head, leaning casually back against the wall.

"Where were you last night?" Locke asked. He eyed his brother's unfamiliar threads. "Whose clothes are those?"

"Well, they might belong to a certain viscount..."

"Dare I even ask why?"

"I suppose it might have something to do with me spending the night with a certain viscountess..."

Sevvy didn't even have the integrity to look embarrassed. He tried to look contrite, but instead amusement and pride shone out his every pore.

"You're incorrigible," Locke said.

"Well, thanks bro!"

Locke swallowed down the groan that wanted to rip out of him. Instead, he picked back up his quill.

"Who're you writing to?"

"Mother," said Locke, scratching away at the parchment. "I'm going to recommend she talks to you when you get home about respecting womenfolk."

"You've got me all wrong," Sevvy protested, sounding genuinely offended. "I never sleep with a woman I don't respect."

Locke decided to give up.

"I wanted to ask," he said, dotting all his I's and crossing his t's. "Have you seen Ryu yet this morning? He is planning on competing in the javelin contest later, isn't he?"

"Hah! I bumped into him earlier too. He said he was looking for the princess. Said he wanted to talk to her."

"The Princess?" Locke said with a start. He snatched the letter back towards him and started writing in sharp, bold lines. "This is going too far. I'm going to tell mother exactly what I think."

"What's the problem?" returned Sevvy's voice, muffled.

"What's the problem?" Locke repeated. He looked up to see Sevvy lying on his stomach on the other lounge sofa, face pressed into the cushioned seat.

"Yeah," came his cushion-muffled voice.

"I'll tell you what the problem is. I know everyone thinks it's very funny, letting Freyjr compete like this. But no one seems to have considered what'll happen if she actually wins this tournament."

"...We get wedding cake?"

"Is it physically impossible for you to serious for one second? To start with, we can say goodbye to our alliance with Wyndia. When King Philip finds out Freyjr is a woman, what do you imagine he's going to think? He'll think we've tricked him, to spite Wyndia." Locke stood and began to pace. Though he'd tried, he just couldn't understand what Brynhildr was thinking.

"I dunno," said Sevvy, lying as lethargically as a cat on a warm day. "How're they going to find out?"

"Sevvy. You could ask any man in Dracon and he'd tell you. If I'm honest, I'm surprised they haven't figured it out already. But I'd rather if they had to find out they do it now, before this sham can go any further...

Locke paused in his pacing. Sevvy was stirring out of his lethargy to push himself up. When Locke turned round to look at his easygoing brother, he found someone else there instead.

For every Draconian, be it man or woman, the dragon was never far from the surface. His youngest sibling viewed life with such a relaxed attitude it rarely rose in him. However, when it did surface, it was was fierce.

"Don't you dare-" it was more a snarl than a word, "I swear to Ladon, Locke. Don't you dare tell them about Ryu."

"Sevvy..." he had to make his brother see sense. Though, carefully. Lingering in his mind was an incident a few years ago when Sevvy broke every piece of crockery they owned.

There was a reason why other kingdoms thought of Draconians as temperamental.

"Sevvy. It's Freyjr I'm thinking of-" he started.

"For fuck's sake. Would it kill you, just once, to call him Ryu?"

In exasperation, "Freyjr is her real name. She can be want to be called what she wants, but it is her name-"

"So? My real name is Sevothtarte, and thanks a lot Ma for that. But you've never had any issue calling me Sevvy."

"That's completely different-" Locke said.

"How?"

Sevvy was trying to distract him from the real issues at hand. "Look. Freyjr, Ryu... I'm not going to argue about details. It may shock you to realise this, but it's not the treaty I'm concerned about. It's Freyjr." He moved towards the window and gazed out at the city. Sevvy tracked him with suspicious eyes. "Say Freyjr wins the tournament and King Philip discovers the truth- which he will, I assure you. What will happen then?" Reflected back in the glass, he saw Sevvy's eyes widen. "I think you understand now. If she's found out, Freyjr's going to be publicly humiliated in front of everybody."

He turned back to look at Sevvy, straddling the lounge, unsettled. "And what happened the last time someone confronted Freyjr like that?" No need for Sevvy to answer. The light from the window illuminated his features clearly. And the scar that split his face from eye to chin spoke all the words needed.

*

Leaving the palace and heading between the the shush-shush of the fountains towards the gate, Ryu murmured Nina advice.

"You're leading with your hips. Most men walk with their shoulders up front. Just watch me and copy," he said.

Looking her companion up and down, she attempted to mimic him, swinging her shoulders and arms like boulders as she walked.

"Any good?"

Ryu responded with what sounded distinctly like a snicker.

"What?" she said.

"You're not doing terrible. Just tone it down a bit. You... don't need to swing your arms that much."

She tried again, and he nodded. "Better," he said. "Try and keep your arms at your sides, or tuck you thumbs into your belt if it helps. You keep touching your elbow or putting her hands together and it's a dead giveaway."

Nina didn't even realise she was doing it. Her hands had clasped themselves demurely in front of her. She pulled them apart and looked at them. In her mind's eye, she could see Christina standing the exact same way. When did she pick up the habit?

"I'm not being too harsh on you, am I?" Ryu asked, noticing her inattention.

She shook her head and tucked her thumbs round the belt of her tunic. "You're very good at all of this," she said to him, adding slyly, "maybe we should have dressed you in one of my dresses. I could have taught you to walk like a lady."

Ryu gave her a look. It indicated there were many things he'd do, like roll in a tub full of goo slime, before he donned one of Nina's frocks.

"Alright, I get it," she laughed, under his withering gaze. "No dress."

A good ten feet away from the gate they stopped. The two guards, the emblem of Wyndia embossed on their white tunics, looked at them curiously.

"What about my voice?" Nina said quietly.

"You can try dropping it a notch, but it's going to take practice. Just let me do the talking."

Nina gazed at the high walls of the palace: the blue sky above.

"Is this really going to work?" she asked. She couldn't get past the feeling that she looked like a girl in costume; people would take one look at her recognise her instantly.

"You'd be surprised. People see what makes sense to them, not what they see with their eyes. They're not going to question if the person in a man's tunic is a woman: why would they? They'll think you're a very pretty pubescent youth."

"Really?" she said dubiously.

"See for yourself," said Ryu, striding towards the gate. A second later, Nina hurried after him.

"Hail there," called one of the guards, short and squat. "Are you wanting out of the palace, Sir?"

"Aye," said Ryu. "Myself and my companion here."

"Hey," said the guard's lanky colleague, looking at them suspiciously. "You're the fellah who got himself locked out a few days ago, aren't you? You better be back before moonrise tonight buddy."

"Visiting the, ah, local establishments, were you?" the squat guard said, with a sly smile.

"Sight-seeing," said Ryu, his face betraying nothing.

"Well, if that's what you want to call it..." the guard said, with a laugh.

His lanky colleague took charge: "We'll need names. And proof of identity, same as last time." He looked over at Nina expectantly. And Nina started. Because the guard was looking at her like no stranger had ever done before. There was no furtive peeping, no secretive glance up and down. The man looked her in the eye.

It was that, rather than nervousness, that left her grasping for words.

"Some time today if possible, Sir," said the squat guard, with dry amusement.

"I..."

"He's my cousin, Aric," said Ryu.

"I think the boy can speak for himself."

Nina swallowed down the feeling. "I'm Aric, of the house of Dracon."

The bored guards picked up at that.

"Dracon? The land of dragons?" the squat guard pointed his eyes at Ryu accusingly. "You didn't tell us that last time, Sir."

"You didn't ask," Ryu said, with a shrug.

"I know who you are," said the lanky guard, with widening eyes. "You're Prince Ryu, aren't you? I recognise you now. I saw you at the contest of swords."

Like that, all interest vanished from herself. She saw them staring in open curiosity at his blue hair, his tanned skin. They chatted excitedly about the tournament; about Ryu's victory; about the other players in the running.

"Who do you reckon your biggest contender is?"

"I should think that weretiger will be a tough one to beat," his colleague said.

"It'll all depend on the last challenge," Ryu said, noncommittally.

As they spoke of the other contenders chances, it really hit home to Nina. She was concerned they would bring her up, but not once did they speak of the princess of Wyndia. She understood: This tournament isn't about me at all. I'm getting married, for entertainment.

Jerked out of her thoughts, she realised the lanky guard was addressing her: "What do you think of your cousin's chances then, eh?"

"Um... he's very good with a sword," she said.

"You're not wrong there! If I may say so, I loved that move you did with-"

Nina let herself fade away from the conversation, lost in her thoughts, until at last the lanky guard cleared his throat.

"Well, I know you're who you say you are because I've see you myself, but you'll need some identification to get back in."

"I'll use the same as last time. My sword." He pulled it from its sheath an inch to reveal the twisting dragon down the blade. "Dragonblade. Only one of its kind."

The guard scribbled down some notes in his book. "And your cousin?"

Nina hesitated. What did she have to prove she was a member of the Draconian royal family?

"Coz. Show them your necklace," Ryu said.

Her necklace? Nina vaguely remembered Ryu handing her one and putting it on with the rest of her outfit. She dug out the lightweight chain from under her tunic and held it out for the guards to see. On the end hung a green stone, set in silver. It was in the shape of a tear.

"The Dragon Tear," said Ryu. "It's been in my family at least three hundred years."

The stone in her hand suddenly felt a hundred times heavier. He was kidding, right?

Why would he let her hold onto something as important at this?

"That's plenty proof enough for me," said the lanky guard. His colleague nodded. "Go on through. Enjoy the city, Sirs."

*

The bazaar in the heady heat of the midday was a living, breathing creature. The heat brought out the sleeping smells to life: dirt; urine; the harsh smells of the horse fair mixed with the exciting scents of the market: flowering incense; fish; herbs and spices; slabs of meat.

To Nina, it'd always smelled like freedom.

"What do you usually do when you leave the palace?" Ryu asked, pushing through the teeming crowds with her.

"I look at everything," she said. A market stall caught her eye, and she shoved through the crowd towards it. Under a orange canopy, the vendor was displaying bright pieces of jewellery. She leant over one piece.

"You've a good eye, sir," said the vendor. "Those are genuine pink pearls, from the bottom of the sea of sand." Nina smiled to herself. She owned pink pearls from the bottom of the sea of sand, and they looked nothing like these. "Looking for something for the wife?" he asked.

"Who?" Nina said.

"Perhaps your concubine, then," said the man with a wink.

"I'm looking for something for my sister," she said.

"Oh, a sister, eh? Well, if I might recommend-"

Ryu caught up with her as the vendor rattled off more junk. She felt Ryu looking at her curiously.

"Your sister?" he asked.

"I always buy her a present when I come to the city," she said.

"-how about mayhaps this marvellous necklace, made of real gold from the city of Auria-"

Nina shook her head at the tacky thing. "She won't like that."

Ryu opened his mouth to speak, but before he could she said to the vendor: "Sorry, we have to go." Grabbing Ryu's hand, she pulled him away into the crowd.

She could hear Ryu's question even without hearing him voice it: Why?

But Nina didn't need others to understand her. Nor did she desire it.

On another stall, bags of spices spilled open. Nina felt the grain between her forefinger and thumb and let it slip through.

"Finest saffron in Wyndia, sir. Are you interested?" asked the market seller.

"No, but thank you," she said sincerely.

She kept waiting for Ryu to broach the subject of her sister, question the need for a gift. But he surprised her. He didn't question her, but instead offered his worldly opinions on the goods, and helped her choose a present.

Precious stones and glass-cut imitations. Precious silks that ran through your hand like water. Ducking under tapestries, weaving beneath woven rugs stacked high. A pot of weird incense, shoved in her face. A polished whelk shell with a two thousand zenny price tag, that Ryu salivated over. "I can't, though," he'd said. "It's not practical. How'd I get it home?" They bought jellied eels for lunch and sugar-dusted doughnuts with crunchy insides. And Nina looked at the crowd: it was no wonder, today, that no one spared her a second glance in a crowd like this. She saw a group of grassrunners, with their shaggy pelts, features hidden between tufts of fur, stood debating the price of broad-swords. A woman with long ears and a feline smile strode down the street like she owned it. The strangest, the manillo, with the upper bodies of fish, stood in droves and haggled loudly.

Three fierce weretigers were hunched debating over a stall that was buried under a cache of gold jewellery.

"Nah, this'll never do for our Kali. She's impossible to please," one of them said.

As Nina approached the stall, a tiger with red stripes over his nose turned to her and Ryu. "What do you think, stranger? Reckon a woman would like this?" On the end of his finger hung a large bracelet coiled like a serpent.

"That depends," said Nina. "What's her taste?"

"That's the problem: I've no idea!" he said, laughing raucously. His friend slapped him hard on the back.

The weretiger outstretched a hand to her. "How rude 'o me not to introduce myself. Name's Jai. These fools here are Kasit and Mani."

Nina stared at the huge, calloused hand for several seconds before she realised she should offer her own. He squeezed her hand so tightly she was forced to swallow down a gasp.

"Aric," she wheezed.

Ryu had his own hand squeezed, and from his reaction- or rather, lack of it- she was forced to assume this was normal.

They stood and spoke for some time. A fascinating experience, that men could talk with strangers like this. As a woman on her in public, the only men who approached her did so make indecent propositions. Other women ignored her, for as a woman out alone, she had to be up to no good.

Some minutes later, the weretigers took turns squeezing their hands again and they made their goodbyes. Nina and Ryu wandered towards the animal market, through the sweetened smell of dung on a hot day, and Ryu said, "You're quiet."

"Those men were so friendly. I'm not used to it," she confessed.

Ryu shot her a puzzled look. "You're a princess. Surely the people in the castle can't be unfriendly to you."

"But that's the thing. They're friendly to me to because I'm the princess." And sometimes not even then, she thought, considering the way some of the handmaids had treated her in the recent years. There was Tony, who'd always been kind to her, but even then not for an instant it was never forgotten that she was his princess. The men she picked up were nice to her... because they wanted something from her. "No stranger has been nice to me for the sake of being nice," she said. Nor, she thought, have I.

As the princess, she was born and bred on selfishness. Not once have I ever gone out of my way to help someone. Not once, she thought, falling quiet.

"What are you thinking?" asked Ryu.

"Do you think people help others to make themselves feel better?" she asked, leaning on the wooden pen that kept the horses awaiting auction that day.

"You're asking the wrong person. I don't usually have a lot to do with people, let alone get close enough to help them."

A chestnut mare approached Nina. She held her hand out to stroke it, and it nudged at her hand, expecting food. She opened her hands apologetically.

"Yet you helped me," she said.

"I suppose I did," he said.

She felt the weight of Ryu's pendant against her breast. "Why?" She inclined her hand, to see Ryu laying a hand upon the horse's mane, his brow furrowed. "And don't say, 'because I felt like it' this time. That's not a real answer."

"Why not?" said Ryu.

"Because nobody does anything because they feel like it. There's always a motive, or an advantage to be had." As Ryu wandered further down the pen, hand running against the fence, she followed, demanding, "Do you pity me?"

"I do your line of thinking- if that's really what you think."

"You don't think I do?" she asked.

"I think you like to say things to sound shocking," he said easily, hands resting on his belt as they passed by the stinking horse pens to the auction. The low drone of the auctioneer's voice, as the handler brought on a thoroughbred onto the stage.

"You don't understand me," she said simply.

"Only you can understand you," Ryu replied, leaning back against the mud-brick wall to watch the auction. "Just as only I can under myself." He smiled to himself. "To a degree, anyway."

"You think you're that complex, do you?" she asked.

"Not really. When it all boils down to it, I'm pretty simple. I don't want to get tangled up in interpersonal relationships. And the things most people find fun are boring to me. I want to be free, that's all."

As he spoke, the auctioneer banged his hammer, and the tamer led the horse out to his new master.

"Not all of us are that lucky," she said.

"Not really. As I see it, there are two types of living creatures in the world. Men, who are free. And beasts." He nudged his head to the man with his new acquisition, fitting a saddle.

"In that case," Nina said, "most women must be beasts."

"Every man can shape his own destiny-"

"You said it. Every man."

Ryu was silent. Another horse was brought up onto the stage. This one wasn't as well behaved. It struggled against the reigns. Snorted. Stamped on the ground.

"I'm no better than that dumb thing," she said dully. "All those years, I thought I was rebelling against my father, but all I was doing was pulling at the reigns and making them chafe. That's all I'm doing now: stamping my hooves. Free? What does it even mean?"

Her companion was silent a long time. He finally understands, she thought. And then he asked: "Will they let us out of the city gates?"

"Of course. Why?" asked Nina.

"Let's get out of here."

Chapter Text

They left the bustling horse fair and went down main street, through a fleet of silver flying flags, out of the gate.

On the plains were the site of the Games: the stands; the running track. Surrounding it was the mess of tents: bright striped silks and leather hide canopies. A small city in its own right.

Nina asked, "Here?"

"Further," said Ryu.

Her eyes turned to the Wind Road, and the endless rippling ocean of golden wheat.

"Here," he said.

The wheat was taller than their heads. Trekking the trail inside was another world. Nina let her fingers run along the grain as they walked. The midday sun stared down from the centre of the sky.

Travellers called the plains of Wyndia the Golden Sea. Because you could walk for miles, for tens of miles, before you came to the edge of it. If you followed it far enough north, you found the Cedar Woods. To the east, the sea. But south and west you could walk for days before you reached any other lands.

"It must have been over two years since I last came out here," Nina said. It was quiet, the only sounds the rustling of grain like tin foil, the above cry of a hawk. It made her voice sound strange. "Last time, it was with Dante. It was just someplace to go." She explained: "He was the only thing like I beau I've ever had. My first." Her voice quietened. The sound of wheat in the breeze. "I ruined his life, you know."

A glance from Ryu. "You're exaggerating."

"I'm not. I knew the risks, and I took them. Even though they weren't mine to take. I didn't even love him. I just wanted him to love me. I wanted something my sister didn't have." A confession, in the open air.

"Do you define everything about yourself by your sister?" Ryu asked.

"She's as much me and I am," she said. "That's why I…"

The waving wheat opened out, a gap in the maze, to reveal a small stream weaving its way between the bedrock.

"I guess you must have wondered why I didn't just run away long ago… that's why. I can't leave her. I won't abandon her."

Ryu's eyes were gentle. "You really loved her."

She shook her hair. "I hated her." She crouched down, fiercely unlacing her sandals. She kicked them away. "She was always so—" but then she paused. "No, you're right. I loved her… and I've no choice now, anyway, do I? How cruel. To toss me out into a world I know nothing off." She crouched down on the bank, pulling tufts of grass between her fingers.

"You might find yourself surprised," said Ryu, easing himself down next to her, elbow propped on his knee. "The world's a wonderful place. If you've spent your whole life in a castle, you're going to be amazed."

"A wonderful place…?" Picking a stone out of the earth, she tossed it down the bank. It bounced off the the rocks and fell with a plop into the water. "What's so great about it?"

"Lift your eyes of the ground, Princess." His hand was under her chin, her skin tingling at the contact. "You're a Wyndian. A child of the sky. Look up," he said.

Gently he tweaked her chin up. The blue endless sky, the wispy feathers of cloud. The wheat moving in the wind like waves in the sea.

An old memory stirred in Nina. She looped her arms around her legs. "She and I— my sister, that is— when were children, we said were going to travel the world together," she remembered. Queens together, they'd visit all the places their tutor showed them in their books. They'd dress like the fine ladies with their parasols and dresses in the lost city of Ludia, visit the gold shining city of Auria and see the fairies and their court in the forests. Nina realised: she'd forgotten all about it.

"When Christina came to Dracon, why didn't you come?" Ryu asked. Nina frowned into the bright sunshine. Her memories seemed somehow shrouded by dark clouds.

"I.. I don't know." Why hadn't she gone? And now that she thought about it, hadn't Christina asked her?

"I know you don't want me to come. Don't lie to me!" she'd yelled back. Yet she didn't mean that at all, so why did she say it?

Why did I? she thought. Something pressed against the edges of her memory like the burr of a headache.

But however hard she pushed, she couldn't get past it.

Nina put it aside with a shake of her head. "Tell me about Dracon," she said instead.

"What about it?"

"Well, there's a good chance I might be moving there, right? And I know next to nothing about it. Or you, if I'm honest," she said.

Ryu smiled wryly. Pulling a tuft of grass he let it scatter like dandelion seeds into the wind. "Well, Dracon's some ways away from here. You have to go through the Cedar Woods and pass through the valleys to get there. The Basalt Tower is at the base of a huge mountain we call Mt. Moon. The stories say a thousand years ago it spilled fire and ash, though I've never heard it make a noise in my lifetime."

"My history books could tell me as much. I want to know about your home. The place you grew up in," she said.

"Home…" said Ryu, rolling the word about in his mouth, as though tasting the sound on his lips. "Every solstice since I can remember, the whole village has great bonfires. We crack calcow nuts and roast them. Have you had a calcow nut?" Nina shook her head. "They're these great huge nuts, the size of my palm. We sing songs about the legendary heroes. When I was a small child I'd sit on my mother's lap and listen to the stories, imagining I was one of them. You're speaking about this kind of thing, aren't you?"

"Yes. About you. Your childhood."

Ryu shrugged his shoulders. "As soon as I was old enough to wander off alone, I never spent much time in the village. I'd always find somewhere new to explore, or something interesting. My mother would send my brother Locke out to bring me home every evening."

Nina could see him: this small scruffy prince in the unfolding dusk, while his brother calls for him to come home.

"What did you do out there the whole time?" she asked.

"When I was small, the whole world held me spellbound. Being locked up in the tower for too long was akin to torture for me." A smile on his lips at the memories. "Outside I found magical things. A cave studded with crystals; a tree-stump filled with fresh spring water; a fossil in the shape of Ladon's symbol. Have you ever seen a baby eye goo before?" he asked with enthusiasm.

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure I'd want to."

"You'd be surprised I think," he said, still smiling. She'd not seen him smile so much before. "They're quite cute."

Nina's budding grin. "…Cute, Prince Ryu?"

She thought she saw a flash of reddening cheeks, before he turned his head away. Pushing herself up on her hands, Nina peered round at him.

"You say all this stuff like, 'there are men are there are beasts,' she said, pulling a comically serious voice in a startling good imitation, "but, you really like animals, don't you?"

"Animals are the Gods' creatures. They deserve our respect," he said. Nina thought he sounded as though he was trying very hard to stay stoic. When she leant over the other side to see his face, he turned away again.

She giggled into her hand. "You talk tough, but you're actually a pretty sweet man, Ryu."

His head whipped round. He struggled to keep his face straight. His mouth twitched as he exclaimed, "Sweet?"

"That serious face of yours makes me want to tickle you, to see what will happen. Will you laugh, or burst?"

"Tickle?" he spluttered. When she dragged herself closer to him, he pulled back, eyeing her like she was some dangerous animal.

Nina laughed so hard she could hardly breathe.

"I'm—" she gasped, through hiccups of mirth, "—only kidding."

"Oh," said Ryu, sitting more comfortably.

She said, with a great deal of seriousness: "I shan't tickle you now. When it's unexpected it's ten times more fun."

"You show your true colours now, Princess" Ryu said, watching her warily. "Not only are you a miscreant, you're criminally mischievous, too."

"Those girls of yours, they're too mischievous for me to handle," Eurydyke would always complain to their mother. "I can't handle them and their pranks!"

Somehow, Nina had forgotten that, too. 

"I'm still waiting on your story," she said to Ryu.

"What story? You've distracted me with your threats."

"About Dracon."

"What else is there left to tell?"

Trying to get Ryu to talk about himself, she was quickly learning, was very similar to getting blood from a stone. "Tell me what else you liked to do as a child. Other than trying to be the world's greatest toddler explorer."

"Fishing," he said with a shrug.

"You fish?"

There was a hint of a smug smile. "A bit."

"I take it you're implying you're pretty good at it."

"Perhaps," he said.

"Will you take me one day?"

"You want to go fishing?" he said in surprise.

"You only live once."

"Well, sure," he said. "I'll take you fishing."

"That was easier than I thought!"

"Well, if you distract me when I've got a bite, I can't promise I'll be responsible for my actions, but…"

"Aha! Will I finally see this famous dragon I've heard so much about?" she asked.

She thought his smiled flickered somewhat at that. He said, "Maybe."

"Do you fish with a pole?" she said.

"Of course. How else would I?"

She'd had visions of a winged beast swooping down upon the riverside, clutching up in his talons a school of slippery fish.

There was something unbearably quaint about this image: a dragon in the shape of a man, sat serenely by the streamside, rod in hand, fishing.

What a fascinating man Ryu was.

"Go on. Tell me something else," she insisted.

"You're voracious," he said, laughing.

"Come on." She gave him a playful push.

"I don't know what else there is left to say," Ryu said helplessly. "I played with the other village children in the dirt, like any other kid. We'd stick fight and pretend we were famous warriors and give our swords names—"

"Like what?" she interrupted him.

"Well like Lion Tooth, or Goblin Slayer, after the swords the heroes used. I couldn't wait to grow up and be in a real battle."

"Have you ever fought in one?"

"When we were at war with Ludia I was too young. I still wanted to fight, of course. I was furious I couldn't go. Thankfully, my mother was too sensible to let me."

"Do you still want to fight?"

"My mother has since taught me the value of peace. However… I cannot deny the allure of battle."

"I don't see what's supposed to be so great about bloodshed and death," Nina said bluntly.

"Yes," he said delicately, "but you're a woman."

"How does that change anything? What do you think girls are made out, daisies?"

"You wouldn't understand—" he started.

"Try me." She looked straight in the eye. He seemed to start.

"I need to prove myself. I need to show them…" he hesitated. "—That I'm worthy of my name and title. That I'm a warrior."

"So it's some mano-macho horse dung, really," she said, unimpressed.

"I warned you that you wouldn't understand—"

"Oh, I understand. I just still think it's a load of horse dung, that's all. There's nothing noble about death."

"Nina." A slight tone of impatience now. "I know it's not fair. I understand. But men and women are different—"

"How, exactly?" she demanded. She corrected herself: "Well, you have the obvious bits, of course. The physical stuff. But then you have the bullshit. Like husbands and fathers have to go to war and get themselves killed to be full, certified, dead men. And girls— girls have to look pretty, and be locked away in the palace, with the only thing to hope for that maybe she'll get a husband who lets her outside, or who doesn't beat her for having opinions." As she spoke, she felt the anger growing inside her belly: the rage she felt at all twenty one years wasted on her cloistered life. Ryu had seen the world: she'd never once left Wyndia. We'll see the world, you and I, she and her sister once promised. Yet she'd seen nothing at all since she died: a ghost, she'd moved without making a sound, repeating her same small vengeances against her father, the world. "Who decided these things?" she demanded, anger coursing through her, hot and viseral and liberating. "Who makes us live like this?"

Ryu was looking at her as though for the first time. "I've never heard anyone say such things as you."

"You agree with me?" she asked, the anger slipping away. The last thing she expected was for him to understand her.

"What you say completely goes against the way I've lived my life," he said. He leant forward, elbows resting on his knees. He gazed out at the streamside, before turning to her. Something vulnerable about his face. "And yet I cannot say I think you are wrong."

She looked out. The anger evaporated from her blood. She watched the gentle tinkling of the stream and watched a flock of ducktails scatter from the fields into the sky.

He's right, she thought. This world is wonderful.

"I'm sorry," she said, smiling an apologetic smile. "I interrupted you again, didn't I? I'm afraid I've always been told I have dreadful manners."

"Don't worry. I've no idea what I was talking about now anyway. Does this mean the interrogation is over?"

Nina shuffled an inch closer to Ryu. "One last thing," she said.

I don't want to go back yet, she thought. She laid her head on his shoulder. He let her. "Tell me about your family. Your brothers," she said.

So Ryu talked. He talked and she listened. She didn't want to speak anymore. She listened to Ryu's calm voice as he opened up more and more and the sun moved in the sky and felt the reverberation of his speech in his chest. He told her about his brothers and his relationship with them. He told her about winters in Dracon and the aurora, and the best places to see the sunset, and Nina begun to wonder what it would be like to see it with him.

"What about your father? You don't mention him," she asked.

"He died," Ryu said. Nina pulled back from where she rested comfortably on his warm shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't worry. It was a long time ago," he said. He took her hand, threaded her fingers through his. Kissed it. "During the Ludian invasion. I don't remember it at all."

"They invaded Dracon?" said Nina.

"They knew they couldn't win in a fair fight, so they came in the night and took us by surprise. They killed my father in his sleep… they left my mother, and my unborn brother, thinking a woman couldn't harm them. More fool to them. They killed every man they could find. And then they broke into the nursery I shared with my sister."

"You have a sister?" Nina said in surprise.

"I used to."

Locke's quill scratched against the parchment. Bold, angry lines. A slight rustling noise, as Sevvy shifted in the chaise lounge.

Locke spoke with a controlled calmness: "You're too young to remember it, Sevvy, but I remember Freyjr when she was small. She wore skirts. She was sweet and adorable, like a little girl should be."

"You're kidding," said Sevvy, as though the thought was ridiculous to him.

"I'm not. She emulated Astrid. She used to follow her everywhere and play dress up with her clothes, even though they were huge on her."

At Astrid's name, Sevvy's rustling ceased. He spoke, uncharacteristically meek and uncertain, "You don't mean… you don't think it had something to do with… that?"

Staring at the letters he'd written, Locke squeezed his quill hard. With a sudden crack, it broke in two, globs of black in spluttering onto the paper. He threw the broken useless thing down in fury. Sevvy flinched.

"Sevvy, she saw the whole thing!"

He'd only been twelve years old. Twelve, his wyvern unawoken, helpless as everything was burning around him. In his bed he woke to the sound of screams and the smell of cinders. At the sound of hobnail boots, running footsteps in the hall, he'd scrambled from his blankets. He'd only just made in inside the wardrobe when he door crashed open the the men burst inside.

Through the crack in he door, he could see clearly the Ludian emblems stitched onto their tunics.

"No one's here. Let's try somewhere else."

Stifling shaking breaths beneath a trembling hand, Locke waited several minutes until he was sure the men had left. He took his child's practice sword from behind the bed and crept out into the corridor.

A deathly silence filled the tower. Locke stood, frozen against the wall, steeling himself to move forward when a clamouring cheer went up. He threw himself back, out of sight, as a group of solider jogged past.

"The King is dead! We got him!" they shouted.

Shock and grief clasped hold of him tightly. F-father! His sword was loose and sweaty in his fingers.

Before he could even begin to grieve, a distant scream split the silent night. Locke knew it: it was his sister's.

"Astrid!"

Full of reckless courage he ran full pelt to the nursery Astrid shared with Freyjr, exploding through the door, blade in hand.

—To find three soldier surrounding Astrid, one pulling the sword from her limp body.

He couldn't breathe. The red haze came down upon Locke. He pointed his sword at the larger, stronger, better trained men.

"How could you?" he gasped. "She was just a girl!"

"Just one more dragon whelp," growled a soldier, stepping forward from Astrid's body. "Your kind should be erased from existence."

Locke stared down at Astrid. But the sister who had loved him, fussed over him, worried over him no longer resembled the ashen girl, unmoving, blood in her hair.

"I'll kill you!" he said. His Draconian blood raging in him, he charged, sword in hand. Taking him by surprise, the dragonbreath-fired metal slid through the solider's armour into his heart. Blood burbled on his lips as he slipped to his knees.

Locke often had pictured how he would take his first man. But it hadn't been like this.

The two remaining soldiers advanced on him. One knocked the sword from his hand as though it were a matchstick.

"Do you understand now, kid?" the soldier said, anonymous beneath his helmet. A pair of eyes and a mouth that would bring his death. "The weak die," that mouth said.

"Quick! In the nursery! The princesses!"

The Draconian men burst into the room. Within seconds, it was over. In front of Locke's eyes, his would be killers were cut down.

The words rang in his head: The weak die.

Rick's plaintive moan brought him back to life: "Oh Lord Ladon… the Princess…"

Astrid. Locke fell to her side, pulling her body into his arms. Dimly, he heard their men leaving to secure the palace from the rest of the invaders.

Dimly, he hears that his father is dead.

He realises: Astrid is still breathing. Faint, shallow breaths, struggling and shuddering.

"Astrid? Please. Don't go."

His sister vanishes in his arms and he's helpless to do anything about it. He apologies that he couldn't protect her. He promises he'll get stronger. He'll take vengeance for what's been done to her. He says all manner of things that night, until he discovers Astrid is a corpse in his hands.

It's only then he remembers: "Freyjr! Freyjr, where are you?"

He's answered by a tiny, muffled sob. On shaking legs he follows the noise. Lifts the wicker wash basket. Beneath, curled where Astrid has hidden her, his six year old sister is silently crying.

"She heard it all," Locke said. The weak die. Words that'd never left his head. Those grinning lips before they'd spurted blood. "A couple of weeks after that she started with all this nonsense… she refused to wear her old clothes. She started insisting that she wasn't a girl. That she was really a boy." Even after all this time, he couldn't stop his hands from trembling at the memory. "I didn't lose one sister that night. I lost two."

"I don't know…" Sevvy said, hesitating. "I think Ryu could have turned out the way he is whatever happened. And…. well, even if that is all true, what does it matter?"

"What does it matter?" Locke spluttered.

Sevvy shrugged his sleek feline shrug. "Ryu is Ryu. Going around calling him a girl and making him mad… what do you hope to achieve?" He sat up from the chaise lounge, stretching on the balls of his toes. He wandered towards the door. "You say that you lost your sister that night… but it was you that did that, with your constant rejection. I didn't lose anything. I gained a brother. And you did, too, if you'd stop being pig-headed enough to see it."

"So you lost a sister, too," said Nina. She pushed herself up from the grassy bank and waded into the stream. The water that washed against her ankles was delightfully cool. The breeze felt great against her legs. She turned to face Ryu, watching her on the bank. "It's strange. We have a lot in common, don't we?"

Ryu strode out into the stream with her. He took her hand. His was rough and calloused and very warm.

"Come to Dracon with me," he said.

She inclined her head. "Are you asking to marry me?"

"I suppose I am… though I never imagined I would ask like this."

"This isn't very romantic," she pointed out.

"I'm not. You may as well know now. Will you have me anyway?"

Nina broke away from him. She looked into the distance: beyond it.

"I haven't been a very good sister. And I definitely haven't been a good daughter. I don't see why I'd be any better at being a wife," she said.

"Don't think of it that way. It's not a binding agreement. If you have enough of me, or if you change your mind, I won't stop you from leaving. And your dowry will be large enough that you'll be able to live your life however you want."

Her brow crinkled. No man made his betrothed such promises. "Why? I don't understand," she said.

"Strangers shouldn't say forevers to one another," was all he'd say.

"Do you find me attractive?" she asked.

"Very," he said, taking a step towards her. He slipped his fingers through his. "Especially, since today."

"Today?" she asked, puzzled.

"And particularly in my tunic," he said, eyes ambling over her calves approvingly.

Nina's eyes sparkled. "You're odd," she said, still laughing when her lips met his.

He kissed her hard; she kissed him harder. She put her arms around the warmth of his body and embraced him fiercely.

"You shouldn't marry me," she warned him, as they parted for breath, tangling her fingers in his hair. "I'm no good. I'll be a terrible wife."

"I don't want a good wife," he said. "I want you."

Her lips weren't given a chance to protest again: they were thoroughly occupied, after that.

To be continued.

Chapter Text

The gamemaker's voice echoed over the sand-strewn arena: "As per tradition, the final challenge to decide the winner will be chosen by the maiden whose hand they will claim—"

Sat in the stands, Nina felt her mother tug at her sleeve. "Nina," she prompted her.

Nina hadn't needed to be coerced from her room this morning. She'd walked up to take her seat with a smile. She'd kept her eyes up. She didn't look at the ground.

Her mother had, naturally, asked if she was feeling alright twice today.

She was. She felt better than alright. For the first time in a long time, Nina opened her eyes in the morning and she hadn't wished she could go back to sleep. It was an emotion she'd nearly, very almost forgotten in these last long months: optimism.

Nina stood from her seat. On the sand before her were the winners of the Games. Ten challenges, six winners, since Ryu, his brother and a fierce looking weretiger won two challenges apiece. The others were the prince of Hometown, Lord Arryn of the Cedar Woods, and taking everyone by surprise: the weedy looking prince of Auria, who'd won the swimming race in the river by a mile.

She felt the eyes of everyone assembled on her. The crowds were full. Nina didn't look at them or the other contenders; she looked at Ryu.

"I choose a challenge of swords," she said, her voice strong and clear.

The crowd broke into murmurs and Nina sat, adjusting her headscarf. She heard the gamemaker's voice: "The Princess has decided: the final challenge will be a challenge of swords. It will be held tomorrow, at midday."

The talking intensified in a dull buzz and people began to split away. From down below, Ryu smiled at her. She smiled back. He nodded at her and split away with Sevvy.

Around her the gentry picked up their cloaks and belonging and began to descend the stand. When Nina made to get up, her mother placed her hand over hers.

"Nina…" she said. Nina couldn't fathom the expression on her mother's face. "That prince from Dracon. Are you…?"

"Be happy for me, Mother." Squeezing her hand back, Nina gave her a bright smile. "Very soon, you'll get what you've always wanted. And you'll never have to see me again."

Letting loose her hand, Nina stood, straightened her scarf and walked away to the guard who would escort her back to the palace.

Her last visit was only a few days before, yet, in those few days Nina's soul room had been transformed into a completely different place.

The twin princesses slept on, but the darkness that plagued her soul had been driven back into the corners, nooks and crannies. It lingered, like cobwebs and dust. But the room felt light and airy: bright.

Deis perched on the end of the bed, curling her tail around the bedpost. "Done some redecorating, Sister? I like what you've done the place."

Do you? Came her sister's disembodied voice. It rumbled with the unspent thunder of her anger.

A finger, pressed pensively to her cheek. "You know, it's funny, but the last time we talked I remember you saying something like, 'it's only a matter of time till she succumbs' and, well…"

It's that dragon, Myria thundered. One of Ladon's brood. All was going perfectly well until he showed his face and gave her reason to hope again.

"Ladon, you say?" said Deis. "So he's sharing himself with his humans now, is he?"

You must find out for me who he is.

Deis laughed aloud. "I think you'll find I must not do anything."

If you've come to mock me— Myria thundered. Deis cut her off.

"I took a walk by the palladium today. I saw something very interesting. Did you know there are people betting on the winner of the contest? There are these things called odds, and people put down things called stakes—"

Your fascination with all things mortal is utterly pointless as always, Deis. Does your story have a point?

"Of course. I've thought of a game we can play."

A long silence, before Myria said, with begrudging curiosity, What is it?

"I propose a bet."

On?

"Nina, of course. If you claim her soul, you win. If you don't, which I don't think you will, I win."

And what do I get, if I win?

In a sing-song voice: "I admit you're the best sister ever and right about everything, and I never annoy you again."

And if you win?

"You promise, and cross your heart, never to toy with the lives of mortals ever again."

That hardly seems a fair exchange.

"Why, because you know I'll win?" Deis said slyly.

Fine. It's a bet. You'll regret ever making with with me though when you lose.

"We'll see," said Deis brightly.

All men have weaknesses. I'll find his.

"The dragon-boy's?" said Deis. "And how will you do that, without my help?"

I think you'll find that I have other avenues than just you. I'll find someone suitable.

The dark goddess lifts her talons from Nina's mind and takes flight. Roaming through the palace, its corridors and courtyards, she feels the light and warmth of the many souls that dwell between these stone walls.

Some lights burn brighter than others. Others, dimmer. Amongst them, she finds one suitable.

A pale fey girl, one of Nina's own blood, sits with a friend painting her nails.

She will do nicely.

Sevvy lounged in a state of pure lethargy in his bed. When he heard Ryu walk in, he didn't even bother to lift up his head.

Suddenly, something heavy hit him in the stomach.

"Hey!" he said. He found his sheafed sword was on his lap.

"Come out and practice with me," Ryu said, striding across the room the to grab Sevvy's sandals.

Sevvy rocked back and used the momentum to push himself up. "In a sly voice he said, "Practice? That worried I'll beat you tomorrow?"

Ryu threw Sevvy's sandals in his face.

"Meet me in the water gardens," he said, striding out of the room.

"Alright!" Sevvy yelled after him. "And you're welcome!"

Sunset cloaked the garden in a golden netting. The evening was cool and fresh. The clouds in the sky were a deep tangerine, and the air was full of the music of cicadas.

Behind the gazebo, in the deepening hues of the day, Ryu and Sevvy sparred.

"So, tell me—" Sevvy said, as metal clashed; his sword met Ryu's. "—Why the change of heart?"

Ryu parried his attack and hit back. "Change of heart about what?"

"About being serious about the contest—" he ducked. Grinned. "I pretty much had to drag your sorry arse here. You remember that?"

"I wasn't that bad," Ryu said, offended, as he dove for Sevvy's exposed shin.

Sevvy caught him in the nick of time. "Yes, you were." He shoved the attack back. "Remember that night we stayed with that old man Kerak and his family in the Cedarwoods? You ran off and spent the whole night alone moping in the woods—"

"I was not moping. I was trying to call a yellow-billed flatduck," said Ryu.

"Oh-hh. Everyone wondered why you were making those quacking noises all night. I told Kerak you were depressed."

That explains all those weird looks I got the next morning, thought Ryu. He shoved Sevvy's blade back and the two parted, circling one another and looking for an opening.

"Was I… really that bad?" said Ryu, faltering slightly.

"Yeah, you were. But it's okay. I forgive you." In that split second of hesitation, Sevvy rushed in.

Ryu pivoted round and deflected it. "You do, do you?" He shoved Sevvy on the back with an open palm, sending him sprawling on his backside in the flowerbed.

Sevvy shrugged. "You got me." Ryu offered him a hand and heaved him, and Sevvy clapped him on the arm.

"Another round?" said Ryu.

"If you want. But go easy on me this time. You know it's you and Locke with the talent at this."

"My ears must have heard you wrong. Sevvy, admitting he wasn't perfect at something?" said Ryu.

His brother laughed aloud. "Yes, but if I were made any more perfect than I am, the Gods would be jealous of me."

The scary part, Ryu thought, was that Sevvy was completely serious.

"Come on." Ryu tossed Sevvy his sword. He caught it deftly.

They went around again. The light changed; the sky burnt a violet red, and faded away into yellow ash. The sun, a perfect gold circle, perched like a coin on the windowsill of the world.

It was still warm, the sweltering heat of the day giving way to a pleasant mildness. A mid-summer's night.

As they fought, Ryu said, "I should probably tell you."

"Tell me what?" said Sevvy.

"I've asked Nina to come back to Dracon with me. I'm going to marry her."

Sevvy's blade was knocked clean from his hand. It went flying and stuck in hydranga bush.

"What?"

"You heard me," Ryu said, sheathing his sword. "I asked her. She said yes."

"You mean you, Ryu, my brother Ryu, asked the princess to marry him?"

Ryu stared at his brother in amusement. With his mouth hanging open, Sevvy was doing a great impression of a trout.

"Yes, that's what I said," he clarified.

"And she said yes?" asked Sevvy.

"I just told you that bit. This really isn't that complicated."

Silent for a few more seconds, Sevvy said at last, "Well, shit. I didn't see that one coming. And that's why the last challenge is a contest of swords?"

"Yeah."

"What if you don't win?"

"I have to win," Ryu said simply. Sevvy waded into the bush to retrieve his sword, fighting through brambles. "It went further in," Ryu called.

He watched Sevvy fighting through the brambles, before pausing, and looking back. "You love her?"

Ryu touched the pommel of his sword, hesitating. "I hardly know her," he said at last.

"You asked her to marry you, though," said Sevvy. "Here it is!" he said brightly, tugging his sword free. "This isn't to do with Locke, is it?"

"You think I'd marry a woman to spite Locke?" Ryu demanded.

"Well," Sevvy said lightly, and Ryu's old feelings came back to him: how he'd wanted, briefly, to bring Nina back to prove himself. Back when he'd thought of her as a prize that could be won. He'd thought it would help prove himself as a man…

But, ever since talking with the princess, he'd began to reevaluate what it was that even meant.

"Things have changed," he said simply.

"Okay. But, why then?"

When was the last time he and Sevvy had talked as personally as this? Had they ever?

"I like the way she thinks. I like her. It's just that, I want to spend some time…" he trailed away.

"Falling in love with her?" Sevvy filled in for him glibly. When Ryu flushed, his brother laughed and elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Man, oh, man! You've got to let me be there when Locke finds out about this. His face is going to be priceless."

Ryu couldn't help the smile that worked up onto his face. "It's going to be pretty funny."

"I might have to ask you for some tips, Ryu. You're like the dark horse—"

Embarrassed, Ryu shoved him. "Come on. Are we practicing, or not?"

In the darkness of the crypt, Nina finished lighting all the candles with the taper, extinguishing it with a breath.

"I made this one for you, Christina," she said. "It's honey melon. I know you always loved the scent." She set the candle down on the alter. "Ryu told me how, and Tony from the kitchens helped me."

Tonight might be the last chance to visit her sister before she left. As soon as the winner of the contest was decided, they'd have their ceremony, and there might not be time to visit the crypt again. The thought stoppered Nina's throat like a corked bottle. No one else knew how to dress the chamber like Christina would have liked. And the thought of someone else, combing her sister's hair—

This is not Christina. Christina is dead, she told herself, firmly.

She'd never fathomed leaving Wyndia before. But perhaps… Perhaps it will be good for me. And Ryu said he would help me…

For months after Christina's death, Nina had felt nothing. The numbness was pleasant at first, until it began to eat away at her. Since then, she'd slowly begun to feel again. She didn't always know if that was a good or bad thing. Silently, Nina wiped the tears that pooled in her eyes with the ends of her sleeves.

Why did she have to be so damned weak?

With a rustle of her skirts, Nina stood, and kissed her sister goodbye. Squeezing her eyes closed she turned and walked away. She didn't open them until she felt the touch of the wind on her skin. At the mouth of the crypt, Nina took a deep breath, filling her lungs full of cool evening air, fighting off tears.

Shh-ing!

She turned her head in the direction of the sound. It was one she often heard from the barracks when she used to visit Dante when the soldiers would practice their sparring.

Framed by the flowering jasmine, she saw Ryu and his brother practising their swordsmanship. She stood and watched them, the sun slipping under the horizon like an occupant out of a painting, the orange glow receding.

In the sky, the stars were beginning to come out.

Ryu and his brother sheathed their swords, and from across the garden Ryu finally spotted her. Raising a hand, he smiled. Drying her eyes, Nina smiled back, so tightly her cheeks hurt.

The light was fading in the west. Nina couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.

To be continued.

Chapter Text

The sun stared down from the centre of the sky. Sat by the edge of the sand-strewn arena, Dragonblade propped up in his lap, Ryu was cleaning his sword when the shadow of the gamemaker fell over him.

"We're getting started in ten minutes. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure," said Ryu, adding some more spit shine to the cloth.

Today, thus far, had been far easier than he'd ever imagined. Prince Edward of Hometown hadn't even been a challenge, and Lord Arryn's expertise apparently didn't extend past his bowmanship. The only surprise of the day was that, having bested Sevvy and the prince of Auria, the final match would be between himself and Raj. Unless he remembered wrong, the Woren didn't display much prowess in the art of the sword last time. Today, however, he fought with a ferocity and strength that disarmed his opponents and cut through their defences.

Glancing up from his work, Ryu thought he could see a glimmer of gold where Nina was sitting in the royal stands. When another shadow fell over him, Ryu was back to his cleaning, smiling to himself.

"Ryu."

Even Locke's face, shaded by the halo of the sun behind his head couldn't put a dampener on Ryu's spirits today.

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Locke said.

Ryu spoke without looking up from Dragonblade: "The gamemaker's just let me know I'm up in a few minutes. So I'd skip the preamble if I were you."

Locke paused, but only for a moment. "Alright. I will. Ryu, I think you should throw the match."

Ryu sat his sword down. And: laughed. Loudly and raucously.

"I'm serious," said Locke, looking grumpy.

"I know you are. That's why I'm laughing."

"I urge you, Ryu. To think this through logically," said Locke.

The laughter stopped. "You don't seriously think I'd come so far in this competition just to give up, do you?"

"You've had your fun. Whatever you've been trying to prove— you've proved it."

Whatever you've been trying to prove— the words set an edge to his blood. "I'm not trying to prove anything."

"Sure," said Locke, in a tone that said, I don't believe you. "But you've beaten me now, so—"

Ryu cut in: "So once again, you think this is all about you?"

"I know you, Ryu." The patronising tone rankled far more than the actual words.

Once, this would have woken the dozing anger that slept in the base of his stomach, but Ryu kept calm. "You're wrong," he said. "There are lot of things you aren't aware of."

"Such as?"

"That Princess Nina and I already have an agreement."

As far as Locke knew, Ryu thought, he probably didn't even know he'd spoken to the princess.

"An agreement?" Locke said, voice laced with doubt.

A lifetime of sibling rivalry couldn't keep the relish out of his voice, "I asked her to marry me. That's why she chose the sword contest as the final challenge."

Ryu expected disbelief, or shock from his older brother. He didn't expect his soft reply: "It isn't right for you to lie to her like this."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Locke spoke without aggression, or challenge. Instead, it was with a reluctance to bring it up, as much as Ryu had evaded considering it. "When she finds out about you, do you really think she's going to stick around?"

"She'll understand." Even to him, his voice sounded too loud.

Nina wouldn't be like Sarah. She was different. She thought differently than other people.

Ryu told himself this, because he didn't want to contemplate the other option.

"You're running away again Ryu," Locke said.

The anger he'd successfully kept at a simmer began to bubble. "Who asked you?" he shot out.

"I'm not saying this to be antagonistic. I'm concerned about you. The last thing I want is for you to get so hung up on a crush again that you spend the next year sulking in the woods. And our mother has to lie to everyone and pretend you're away training."

And he was trying not to be antagonistic? How dare he? He had been training. And a crush? That wasn't a crush. He had loved Sarah! Loved her more than anyone could have loved her!

But countless times he and Locke had this same argument, and Locke never understood.

Instead, Ryu said, "How about you go fuck yourself, Locke?"

He forced himself to walk away before he did something he'd regret. Locke called after him, but Ryu wasn't listening.

All his life he'd been told what he couldn't do.

That he couldn't be a boy. He couldn't fight with a sword. He couldn't dress this way. He couldn't talk that way. He couldn't be him.

All for the crime of being born into the wrong body.

But today, he'd show them. Nina would understand. She would. "Who decided these things?" she'd demanded. "Who makes us live like this?"

As he thought of the sunny day sat by the riverbank together with her, his anger subsided. Locke didn't matter. He'd win this for her.

"You ever imagine this would end up between you and me, eh?"

His hair braided down to his waist, warpaint freshly applied, Raj struck an intimidating figure. But he was so huge and muscular that he looked ungainly with the sword in his hand, like an overgrown child with a stick.

"Not really," Ryu said. And he asked, "What happened since the last sword contest?"

"Stepped up my game, bruh. Ya see," he grinned, large lips exposing a sharp white smile, "I got a reason I gotta win."

So do I, thought Ryu.

The gamemaker rested his hands on Raj and Ryu's shoulders. Ryu resisted to shove him off.

"You ready, lads?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Ryu.

"Ready to kick this guy's ass," said Raj, raising a playful fist.

As they approached the arena, Sevvy ran up to catch him.

"Good luck, bro. I know you can do this," he said.

"I appreciate it, Sevvy."

"Also, I bet all my money on you. So don't fuck it up."

A roll of his eyes. He clapped his hand on Sevvy's shoulder. "Thanks," he said.

The heat of the sand was so intense that as Ryu strode out into the arena he could feel it through his sandals. As he took his place, the crowd cheered, and as he drew Dragonblade the sound grew deafening.

These strangers were rooting for him.

The gamemaker's whistle blew, and it begun.

Neither Ryu or Raj immediately reacted. They sized each other up, Raj grinning that white, predatory smile, and again Ryu felt that same sense of confusion, because Raj looked so awkward with a sword in his hand. And then Raj lunged for him, giving Ryu only the better end of half a second to dive out of the way, and he understood.

Raj was using the Fury.

A secret running through his veins, like the wyvern inside himself, the people of the Woren clans had the beast in their blood.

The difference was, the Woren were Beserks. When they transformed, they could exert no control over themselves.

Like Ryu, himself.

He'd never once heard of a Woren able to access the Fury without succumbing body and mind to the weretiger.

Their blades met, and the force that met Dragonblade almost knocked it clean from his hand. He struggled to push the attack back.

"How—" Ryu spoke through teeth gritted in concentration, "—are you doing this?"

That sharp smile. "I knew if anyone figured me out, it'd be you or your brothers."

Sweat beaded on his brow. "If the gamemaker knew you were using the Fury—"

"If I was really in the Fury, would I really be able to talk to you like this?"

Raj was right. He shouldn't be able to. But the fact remained: he was.

The Woren boomed with laughter. He seemed to be exerting no force, yet it was taking everything Ryu had inside him to stand his ground. "I won't blame you, little dragon, if you want to throw in the towel. Wouldn't want ya to get hurt. The Tigress, She's a fierce animal."

Throw the match, Locke had said.

But I told Nina I'd take her away from this place. The determination inside him gave him a second wind. He refused to fall at the final hurdle. In a deft manoeuvre, he ducked underneath Raj's arm and forced him back into a defencive position.

He was the best swordsman in Dracon, and no brute strength was going to defeat him.

Ryu led Raj in a merry dance, coaxing and goading him into attacking, and at the last minute using his superior agility to easily dance out of the way. Dimly he heard the sound of the crowd in his ears, how the noise surged as he ducked and dived from the clutches of Raj's claws.

As Ryu evaded once more Raj's sweeping blade, the Woren laughed. "If you're trying to wear me out, you're mistaken. The Tigress, She just gives and gives."

Ryu didn't need to wear him out. He just needed Raj to get sloppy, make a mistake and leave his guard open. Twice, he did, leaving his chest exposed, but twice Ryu held off, because to strike then would deliver a fatal blow.

They circled one another, Ryu waiting for an entrance.

"Enough cat and mouse," Raj tried to goad him, "come attack me, if you dare."

Ryu smiled to himself. Oh, he dared, alright, he just wasn't dumb enough. Head to head and he'd go down in a matter of minutes.

Again, he evaded. He waited. The crowd weren't cheering now. They were impatient. They called for bloodshed.

Ryu wasn't wearing Raj out, but he was wearing himself out. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back. His veins, furiously pumping blood, stood out on his arms, covered with a sheen. He was panting, and Raj was laughing.

"All those aerobics tuckering you out?"

He had to do something. He could feel himself getting sloppy instead of Raj, his exhausted thrusts and parries lacking strength. He failed to catch Raj's swing in time, and his sword caught his arm, the metal bit, the crowd gasping as blood sprinkled into the sand. Ryu swallowed down the pain. It was no more than a graze.

If only— he thought— if only he were angrier. Anger was his natural adrenaline, and yet though exhausted, Ryu felt far too calm. If only he were angry, then—

"You damn dirty weretiger! You'll have to do better than that," he called across the arena.

But Raj just laughed. "And I thought it was your brother Sevvy who had the crude mouth."

Further provocations, too, were met only by a mounting hilarity.

Ryu felt growing frustration, but not anger.

Nina was up there somewhere in the stands. She was depending upon him. But somehow thinking of her didn't help, either.

Searching the crowd, Ryu found what he was looking for. Locke.

"Her name is Freyjr," he'd said, "and she doesn't need to learn to fight."

"It's time for you to finish playing at love, and grow up. Before you hurt someone."

"What is Wyndia going to do when they find out the thing their princess had been married to is-"

Another voice, too, joined the fray:

"But you're a woman, Ryu."

Wasn't that, after all, why he was really angry?

The anger inside him awoke, the creature uncurling itself in his stomach. The fire licked through his veins and brought his tired body back to life. He gripped his sword tighter.

Metal met metal, with such a force that blue sparks blew.

"So, this is the dragon's power," said Raj, in surprise and, perhaps, admiration.

Ryu found an opening, and he took it. The sword was knocked from Raj's hand. It flew, and with a snk, stuck in the sand like a javelin. When the dust cleared, Ryu was pointing Dragonblade at Raj's neck.

The crowd surged into cheers and applause. Both he and Raj were panting hard.

"The winner," called the gamemaker, "is Prince Ryu!"

Raj's expression curdled: the cat, after all, hadn't got the cream. But as Ryu lowered his sword, it faded, and he put out his hand for Ryu to shake.

"Well done," he said.

"You too. I'd be fascinated to hear how you control the Fury like that," said Ryu.

"Let's just say I struck up a deal with someone." And as they shook hands, he met his eye. "You'll destroy yourself, you know, if you carry on using your anger as a weapon like that. You won't be able to control it."

His hand fell, and as Ryu made to speak, he was ambushed by the gamemaker, Sevvy, Arryn, and a dozen more bodies crowding in on him.

"Congratulations, Prince Ryu! Congratulations!" said the gamemaker.

"I knew you could do it, bro!" said Sevvy.

"Wait—" called Ryu, but he could no longer see Raj through the crowd, all congratulating him on his victory.

"Come, let me present you to the King. The Princess herself will crown you with your wreath," said the gamemaker.

Nina. Like that, his thoughts turned away. It begun to sink in. He'd won! He and Nina would be married.

"Right," he said, as he let himself be led away.

The gamemaker took him up the stairs onto a mock-stage, where the King stood in all his heavy regalia, Nina beside him. She met his eyes, and it was an effort to tear them away to shake hands with the King and receive his congratulations. From the ruddiness in his cheeks and merry disposition, he'd apparently already started on this evening libations.

A glittering golden shawl over her head, Nina held in her hands the winner's golden laurel wreath. The smile of their secret understanding was in her voice as she said, "Please kneel, sir."

Ryu knelt, gazing up at her as she placed the crown on his head. "Congratulations," she said.

Stood by the stage were the other competitors in a line, who reluctantly joined in the otherwise ecstatic applause. Locke's steely gaze did not penetrate. How ironic, Ryu thought. It was him, after all, who helped me win this tournament.

"I'll endeavour to be a good husband to you, Princess," Ryu said.

"I know you will," said Nina. She was beaming.

Nobody ever figured out who it was, but that day someone in the crowd called out, "Kiss her!" Someone else took it up and it spread, until the masses demanded of Ryu, "Kiss her!"

Ryu looked in askance of the King, who, pink-cheeked, shrugged his shoulders as if to say, go on. Why not?

Ryu rose to his feet, and in front of the whole of Wyndia, took Nina into his arms and kissed her.

Chapter Text

How bizzare, Nina thought. Her last day in the palace, and it felt like things were how they used to be, long ago.

The glittering mirrored bathroom was bustling with servants carrying hot water and jars of scented oils. Soaking in the deliciously warm water in the large square tub, her mother perched on the end, combing her hair. On the other side, a maid buffed her toenails.

Tonight was her wedding, and they were making her into a bride.

"I told your father—" Queen Rosetta's voice quivered with emotion, "-I told him. We should have brokered you a marriage with one of the nice local lords from the provinces. Instead of sending you to— to that wasteland." In a hiccough of emotion, her mother tugged the comb, pulling at her roots.

Gritting her teeth against it, Nina assured her, "It'll be fine, Mother."

"Fine?" her mother's voice rose. "How could it be fine? Do you know how cold it gets in the north in winter? And that northern witch, Brynhildr…" her voice now dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "…I heard she's a sorceress who possesses the body of animals— that they let a woman sit on the throne, in the first place—"

Because she was facing away, Nina allowed herself to roll her eyes at her mother's fear-mongering and prejudices.

She'd known she was leaving for weeks. This was all too little, too late, in Nina's opinion. Why her mother had chosen now, of all times to get weepy about it—

"It'll be lonely here, without you, Nina," her mother said. Reflected in the mirrored bathroom tiles, she was startled to see that she was crying.

She turned around in the bath. "Mother…"

"I know I haven't always been… perhaps as understanding as I could have been," she said. Her body was as rigid as stone. Even sat on a bathtub she sat properly. To Nina it seemed the tears came down her cheeks like rain washing down a statue. "But to lose Christina, and now you, too…"

Her mother, Nina thought, hadn't been dealt the easiest hand in life, either.

She clasped her hand. "I'll write you," she promised. "And it won't be forever. I'll return to Wyndia for the funeral." She squeezed softly, and did something she hadn't done with her mother for years: confided in her. "You mustn't worry about me, Mother. I want to go with Ryu. We've… talked, and I— I like him."

She couldn't have expected her feelings. In all honestly, close up, he wasn't attractive as Dante had been. He was oddly androgynous and thin, and she'd never known anyone could have blue hair until he and his brothers came to Wyndia.

And yet, she felt things for him she'd never felt for Dante. It wasn't a simple physical attraction. She wanted to know him. She wanted to know everything there was to know about him. She wanted—

It was inexpressible.

"You talked with him?" Yet dismay grew in Nina as she heard the sharp curve of her mother's voice. "When?" she demanded.

"A-after the challenges, and a couple of times in the gardens," she lied.

"He didn't try anything improper, did he?"

"Of course not!" Nina exclaimed. "He's a gentleman."

The maid buffing her nails has been, discreetly, trying to pretend to ignore their conversation. But even she couldn't help but glance up.

"I was just asking," her mother said, annoyed. "You don't have to cause a scene about it. He's a barbarian. You don't know what morals someone like that has."

Nina settled back down into the bubbles, but the moment of repertoire between them was over.

"Don't be angry with me, Nina. With you gone, I'll be all alone," the Queen choked.

Nina stared coldly at the mirrored tiles. Her mother didn't understand her. And she was right: she'd never really even tried.

…All the same, Nina didn't want to part with her with crossed words. "I'm not angry, Mother," she said. She let her comb her hair, because she was her mother, and because she meant no harm, even when the comb snagged and she bit down the pain.

Like skin shed by some exotic animal, the guest room adjoining the bathroom was covered in swathes of red silk. Stood on the dressmaker's stool, she could see the crown of his bold patch as he made alterations to her cut. Her mother was messing with her hair, and knelt on the floor with a mouth full of pins, Zilpah was taking up her hem. For the special occasion, Eurydyke, in all her generosity, had thought to lend Nina her maid back.

"I thought I might wear some kohl around my eyes," Nina said.

"No kohl. Sluts wear kohl," snapped her mother, braiding up her hair into an elaborate bun. Adding: "You're better than that."

Since it was a formal occasion, Nina wore her crown. Resting over the top of her ears and resting on her eyebrows, it was a thin, delicate band of silver.

"I have a silver necklace that might go well with it," her mother suggested.

Nina shook her head. "Zilpah, did you get that box from my bedroom?"

Zilpah took the pins from her mouth. "I did, Princess. Shall I get it for you?"

"Please get the pendant that's inside."

"Hold still for a second, so I can pin this, would you?" Rosetta griped, still fussing at Nina's hair, as Zilpah made a noise of awe from behind them.

"I've never seen this before, Princess. It's beautiful." In the maid's hand was the Dragon Tear. "Was it a gift?"

"Prince Ryu asked me to hold onto it for him. It's one of Dracon's heirlooms," Nina explained, sensibly leaving out the part where she used it to sneak out of the palace pretending to be Ryu's cousin. Since that day, she hadn't had a chance to give it back.

Running her fingers over the stone, Zilpah said, "It's got a powerful spell laid upon it."

"A spell?" the Queen asked, voice rising in anxiety.

"A benevolent spell," Zilpah amended quickly. Zilpah, Nina remembered, was from the hill tribes past the plains, where many of the great western wizards and magicians hailed from.

In polite society, of course, magic was frowned upon, and proper ladies did not have knowledge of such things.

So her mother would tell her, anyway.

"Do you know what it does?" Nina asked eagerly as Zilpah passed her the Tear. As she did, the yellow hue of the stone changed colour and transformed into a soft turquoise.

"I can't say exactly, but it looks like a kind of reactive spell."

"Reactive?" asked Nina.

"It's reading something, and relaying it to the stone. That's why it's changing colour."

"How can you tell?"

"In my tribe, we keep an artifact belonging to Princess Beriah, who lived five hundred years ago. It's her hand mirror, which showed the faces of any disloyal to her. Our elders still use it now to find our enemies. The stone has a similar feeling to it."

Queen Rosetta dismissed all of this: "I've never heard so much rubbish," she said, as the stone turned an annoyed looking orange. "Now turn around, if you insist on wearing this rock…"

The dressing of the bride was a spectacle, and as the dressmaker put on the finishing touches many cousins and servants looked in to congratulate her and see what the bride would be wearing.

As they wished her a good marriage and fruitful fertility, Nina began to notice how the Dragon Tear reacted when they spoke to her. Mostly, the Tear remained a neutral looking yellow, occasionally lightening to a dull green or turquoise. The exception being when her cousin Bianca, who could never seem to uncurl the sneer to her lip around Nina, looked in, and the Tear flashed an angry looking red.

This all changed, however, with the following visitors.

It was Kleopatra, dragging in Drypetis, who managed to look even more vacant than usual.

Kleopatra bowed her head sweetly and offered her congratulations, before she shoved her friend forward. "C'mon— what's with you today?" she hissed.

Kleopatra did not register a reaction, but Drypetis—

Like someone struggling to wake from a deep dream, Drypetis forced her gaze up towards her. "Congratulations," she managed out.

The Dragon Tear writhed into a dark and malevolent purple.

Ceremonial torches were lit. In the city, people were drinking and celebrating in the streets. Up in the White Palace, a celebration was taking place more decadent than Ryu had ever seen the like of.

Buffet tables were piled high with expensive sweetmeats and honey cakes. Wine flowed freely. The hall was warm with bodies and laughter. Sat beside the bride on the raised dais, Ryu could see Sevvy through the dancing girls and their whirling silks, where he was sat with his sack of winnings under his arm. He talked and laughed with Raj, who seemed to have consoled himself to his loss with several tankards of strong ale.

Earlier, a servant knocked for him to deliver a crisp white tunic, bordered with expensive purple thread. She'd also been quite keen to help him into it, to his grievance. It'd taken some time, Sevvy laughing his ass off on the bed, to chivvy her out of the room.

The dancers were clearly chosen for their grace and beauty, but Ryu only had eyes for the woman beside him. Ravishing in the bridal red, she wore a smile that reached up all the way to her eyes, and Ryu couldn't take his own off her.

"Do you think everyone in Dracon will be surprised, when I come back with you?" Nina asked, threading her fingers through his.

Half way though bringing his goblet to his lips, Ryu nearly snorted out his wine. "Definitely."

"Did you imagine this, when you arrived here with your brothers? That it would turn out this way?"

"Not at all. To be honest…" he admitted, "I didn't want to come."

He'd assumed, when Brynhildr laid down the law, that the trip was to force Locke and himself together in hope that the two of them would make up. But now Ryu wondered: was this what Brynhildr really had in mind…?

"You didn't want to come?" Nina laughed.

"I thought I'd come and compete, to test my skills, and that would be it. But I ended up getting competitive with Locke."

"He's your rival?" said Nina.

"You could put it like that. But I ended up changing my mind again." He fell quiet. He'd never discussed with Nina the night he discovered her on the observation platform, and the argument they'd had. Hesitating, he pushed on: "That night in the gardens, after the sword contest…"

"Oh," said Nina, unsmiling.

"What were you doing that night?"

He saw Nina's fingers teasing and pulling at the embroidery on her sleeve. "There's something I ought to tell you. I've— well, I've never told anyone about it. But you ought to know. I—"

At that moment however, Ryu realised the musicians were no longer playing, the dancers filing away. A clear note struck through the hall: a spoon against a glass.

Dropping her sleeve, Nina sighed.

King Philip stood. If he were merry with drink before, he was ecstatic now. Red-faced, someone offered him a discreet push as he staggered up to his feet. "My friends!" he called jovially. "I'm happy to have you here today to celebrate the marriage of my daughter, and—" he paused, as his advisor murmured into his ear, "Prince Ryu. Congratulations!" He raised a wobbly goblet in Ryu's direction, and suppressing a smile, Ryu raised his own in return. "If the guests would now present their gifts."

As custom, dozens of people now came to offer their congratulations to the young couple and present their wedding gifts. Lord Arryn presented Ryu with a bow cut from the Cedarwood, and with a wink recommended he keep at his bowmanship. Nina he offered a beautifully carved comb. The prince of Auria, surprising no-one, gave the couple flashy gold jewellery. One of the lords from the provinces gave her a gleaming wolf pelt cloak. "Would have got you something pretty, but winters are cold in the north, Highness."

She thanked him for his thoughtfulness, her manner somewhat subdued, and Ryu did, too, for the first time considering Nina's fragile looking disposition. She was a slip of a girl, and summers in Dracon were scorching, the winters icy.

There were reasons people referred to the north as a wasteland.

To one of the Brood, it was nothing, but to a princess sheltered in a palace…the Basalt Tower provided few such luxuries.

"When she finds out about you, do you really think she's going to stick around?"

He'd assured her he'd have no problems if she changed her mind and wanted to leave, and yet…

Four men carried out a gold-inlaid chest and set it before the dais. A gift from the King and Queen. A hundred thousand zenny: Nina's dowry. A sudden fear struck Ryu: what if Nina didn't have feelings for him? If she meant to take him up on his promise, and what she desires isn't really me, but the gold pieces in that box?

Palms sweating, a sinking feeling in his stomach, he wasn't paying attention as some cousin gifted him a bejewelled scabbard. His lips made some reply he didn't hear. Could that be what Nina was trying to tell him, before the King interrupted them?

Turning to look at her, he searched in her face for something, and couldn't find it. She was distracted, biting at her bottom lip. When she noticed him looking, she answered him with a distant smile, murmuring, "What's wrong? You look a little pale."

The urge rose in his throat to ask her: did she truly care for him? Would she stay? Ryu bit it down, feeling ridiculous.

He wasn't paying attention at all as the last person to offer their gift approached the dais. It was a young woman he didn't know, who from her looks was probably another of Nina's multitude of relatives.

It was only when the murmurs started, and he realised the girl was standing in silence, staring at him without acknowledgement, that he realised something wasn't right.

King Philip, nudged by his advisor, called, "Out with it, girl! Don't be so damned shy. We want to get to the buffet."

Nina lent forward in the bridal chair, hand clutched round the Dragon Tear he'd let her borrow. "Drypetis… are you alright?"

The whispers grew. More heads turned to look. Drypetis turned to her audience and announced, with a steady and carrying voice, "This marriage is a sham. The groom is an impostor. Queen Brynhildr has only two sons, and none of them are called Prince Ryu."

Her words evoked a flurry of whispers rising like a cloud of angry hornets. Ryu felt as though his stomach had dropped right out of him.

Fists clenched, Nina, leaning almost out of her chair, said, "I see Kleopatra is rubbing off on you. I wouldn't have expected you to play such a mean trick, Drypetis!"

Confusion at the royal table. Queen Rosetta's face was painted with suspicion. The King's advisors spoke animatedly. The King himself was drunk and baffled.

All of a sudden, the King slammed his goblet down, and burst out laughing. "Good one. That's a good one," he said, as he fumbled his drink and wine spilled over the mosaic floor. "Now, bring out the roast boar…"

Drypetis's confident voice carried across the hall: "This is no joke, your Majesty. This is an impostor who's come to rob you of your daughter and your dignity."

A cross expression passed through the King's face. This wasn't how he expected this evening to go. Turning to his advisor, he said, "-Get this girl a seat and a drink—"

With some resistance, Drypetis was led away, and it all seemed like it was going to turn out alright after all. Ryu's stomach just started to settle when one of the lords of the western woods stood from his seat.

"Your Majesty… I regret to say so, but I think it might be true what the young lady is saying. Fifteen years ago I visited Dracon, and Queen Brynhildr had two sons and two daughters. I've never heard of a Prince Ryu before. When no one else commented on it, I assumed I must have made a mistake, but…"

Other voices added to the mix: they'd never heard of Queen Brynhildr's third son, either. People spoke over the top of one another and added to the confusion.

Dismay became indignation. With a shiing, Ryu withdrew his sword, burying it in the dais. "I am not an impostor," he said hotly. "This is the Dragonblade, heirloom of Dracon and proof of my heritage."

But someone from the back of the room called, "You could have stolen it!"

As more chaos erupted, Sevvy marched up onto the dais, and standing by Ryu's side put his hand on his shoulder in a display of solidarity. "Are you saying I'm an impostor, too?"

Towering above the crowd, Raj stood from his seat. "There's an easy way to prove this. All Ryu needs to do is transform into a dragon."

Voices joined his, calling, "Do it!", "If you are who you say you are, do it!"

Ryu grit his teeth. "I… cannot," he admitted.

The mood in the hall had changed. The jokes were gone, and the threat of violence hung over the room. Someone yelled, "I want the money I bet back!", "Throw him in the cells!", "He's a fraud!"

Nina grabbed at his arm. Fear battled in her eyes. "Ryu… what are they saying?"

He could care less what these lords and ladies thought of him. But, Nina… "It's not true," he promised her. She gripped him tighter.

Locke finally decided to show his face, striding up to join them on the dais. "Ryu… didn't I say this would happen?" he said unhappily.

"Come to gloat?" Ryu snapped.

"If you think I'm enjoying this, you're mistaken." He looked to Nina, the confusion on her face, and then back to Ryu. "…Sorry," he said.

It took Ryu a few seconds too long to figure out what he was sorry for.

"Your Majesty," Locke called, repeating himself to be heard above the hundrum: "Your Majesty. Please," he addressed the crowd, who begun to quieten. He raised his hand. "There has been a misunderstanding. Ryu is not an impostor, and we didn't come here to deceive you. The reason you've never heard of him is because her real name is Princess Freyjr, daughter of Brynhildr. She is my sister."

The room went mad.

Everybody was talking over the top of everyone and nobody could hear anything, except for the one same man yelling about getting his money back.

Ryu felt as though someone was reaching inside his chest, and squeezing hard. He couldn't breathe.

Dimly, he felt Nina tug at him. "Ryu… this is a joke, right? Right?"

I wish it were.

Ryu swallowed down the airless feeling and stepped forward. He felt ten years old again, floating outside his body. Mouth dry, he broke his silence: "Your Majesty." Nails bit tight into palms. Drew blood. "My mother is Queen Brynhildr of Dracon. My father was King Erling. It's true that I was born as Princess Freyjr. But that's not who I am, or who I live my life as." He raised his voice, but it wavered; it was too loud; it didn't sound right. "I am Prince Ryu, and I am not a woman."

Murmurs rose again like hornets, and several men laughed. Of course, he thought. They didn't understand, as he knew they wouldn't. The lucky bastards had never felt as he felt. They'd never been strangers in their own skin. They didn't understand. How could they?

The laughter rose. A woman shouted, "What a freak!" Nails bit tighter. The dragon stirred under the surface like a tremor under a still lake.

He didn't expect to feel Locke's hand on his shoulder. "Keep calm," he said. "You can't lose control here."

"I won't," Ryu snarled, shoving his hand aside, furious at his betrayal. He'd rather have the king thought him an impostor than have Locke tell a whole hall full of people what he told them.

The King, however, wasn't laughing anymore. The merriment gone from him, he pushed himself up from his seat, red-faced. He shouted: "Brynhildr, that witch! This is all on her. She thinks she can make a fool out of me, and Wyndia…!"

Locke attempted to reason with him: "Your Majesty, I assure you this wasn't a deception—"

But Ryu could care less about damage control with a drunken idiot king. Nina was staring at him with betrayed eyes.

"This was all just a trick?"

"I swear it wasn't, Nina. You have to believe me."

"How can, Ryu? Ryu… that isn't even your name!" When he reached for her, she flinched away. "I should have known better to trust you. You used me, just like everybody else has."

The King slammed his fist down against the table. "Remove these people, immediately!" he shouted. "Get them away from my daughter."

Quickly, Ryu found himself and his brothers surrounded by the kingsguard. Pursed lips, their leader said, "Sirs, Madam. I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"We don't want to stay!" Sevvy spat. He grabbed Ryu by the arm. "Come on, Ryu."

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from Nina's. "This isn't what it looks like," he found himself saying.

"Then what is it like?" Nina demanded, tears marking her cheeks. She'd retreated into herself, curled up in the bridal chair. "I thought you understood. I thought you…"

"I do!" he said breathlessly.

"You lied to me! I don't even know who you are."

"Ma'am, if you don't leave now, we'll be forced to make you leave," said the captain of the kingsguard.

And it occurred to Ryu, clear as day: "Nina, I love you."

Tears on her cheeks, Nina turned her head away.

When the captain made a grab for him, Ryu shoved him away. "We're going," he said.

Head down, seeing nothing, he barged towards the door, flanked by Sevvy and Locke. Jeers and catcalls fell upon him like rain. He quickened his pace. His blood fizzed like carbonated water.

When they'd made it out into the gardens, Ryu couldn't hold it back any longer. Dashing into a sprint, Sevvy's call for him to wait deflected across his back.

And Ryu surrendered himself.

Sevvy slowed to a walk and stopped, Locke beside him, watching as the dragon swooped over the city, leathery wings spread wide. He glided out over the plains towards the forest, far away from Wyndia.

Chapter Text

Pandemonium broke out in the hall. People shouted and stamped their feet, demanding their money back; demanding a rematch. The bride, now groomless and hunched at the back of the bridal chair, was completely forgotten as the first punch was thrown, a table splintering into pieces as it hit the ground.

Nina couldn't concentrate. She felt as though she was seeing everything from deep underwater. Nothing felt real.

I warned you, didn't I? the familiar insidious voice murmured into her ear. That dragon just wanted to use you.

"If Ryu was a fraud, who's the real winner?" the Prince of Auria called above the din.

"I demand a rematch!" said Prince Edward of Hometown, adding his voice to the cacophony.

The dragon didn't love you. How could she?

"Silence!"

The King's voice boomed across the floor. Angry and flustered, he steadied himself against the royal table. "No rematches. We're here for a wedding, and that's what we're going to have. Since Prince Ryu… or whoever she was, was disqualified, the runner-up is the winner."

It took everyone more than a few moments to figure out what this meant. Only when Raj stood out of the crowd, raising his fists in triumph, did it click with Nina what was happening, dragging her from her stupor.

Before she thought them through, the words flew from her mouth: "I— I won't!"

Eyes turned on her. At the royal table, her mother covered her face with shame. Fingers clasped the arms of the chair tight enough for splinters. "You can't make me."

Some of the suitors stared at her as though she'd grown an extra pair of legs. Possibly, they didn't realise she possessed any thoughts and opinions of her own.

Incensed with rage at her very public disobedience, the King slammed his fist against the table, cups and crockery clattering. "I am your father, and you will do as I command!"

"I'm tired of following your rules!" she shouted. But even as she spoke, she heard the traitorous crack in her voice.

"Then tell me," said her father. "What do you intend to do?"

"I'll—" her arguments turned to ash in her mouth. What could she do? This wedding was going to happen whether she liked it or not. The only choices she had were: to go through with it gracefully. Or to humiliate herself and bring shame to her family, like she was doing now.

The water lapped at her once more. Slowly, she sat back down, submerged, the pounding drum-beat of blood hammering at her ears.

Give up.

"I apologise for my daughter's behaviour," Queen Rosetta said, as Raj strode towards the dais, slipping into the empty seat beside her. "I fear she may have… perhaps drunk a little too much wine. This evening has turned into a trying affair, and it's understandable she let emotions get the better of her."

Raj just laughed. "No need to apologise, your Highness. I like some high spirit in my women."

Hunched in her seat, Nina stared at the floor mosaic without seeing.

She was a spectator to her own wedding. Because somebody else, it felt to her, was sitting in the bridal chair. It couldn't be her, whom the priest anointed with the holy water. Or her hand, and this stranger's, clasped, that was tied with the red string of fate, tying their destinies together forever. When the priest cut the first two pieces of the wedding loaf, and Raj placed it on her tongue, she could not taste it. The ecstatic applause from the hall was a murmur, far away. When her husband kissed her, she did not feel it.

Just a few minutes before, she hadn't even known his name.

Ryu flew high above the wheat fields of Wyndia, writhing like waves in a storm. But, he was no longer Ryu. He was speed; instinct; flight. Sharp talons and tendons and wings. Sentient thought consumed by primal instinct, he flew. He could sense the two creatures tailing him: he didn't know they were his brothers. There was no kin. No memories. No identity…

Only the ecstasy of flight.

People forget the things they want to forget.

The evening wore on. The boar was carved, the tumblers tumbled, the wine flowed like an endless river, and they forgot about Nina's outburst. Ryu became a funny joke. The men smoked shisha and one of the great poets read a piece of one of his epics.

"—And Philanon, son of Artemius saw the eagle flying in front of the sun. He cried thus: 'Father, it is an omen from the gods—'"

Nodding off in the bridal chair, head bowed, eyes glazed, maiden under an enchantment, Nina saw a mirage.

Raising her heavy head, through the miasma of a shisha smoke, her sister Christina stood amidst the crowd. Pulling her sparkling funeral shroud over her golden hair, she beckoned Nina with her fingers: come.

Nina came.

Enraptured by the story the poet was spinning, no one noticed her slip out from the back. Out of the hall, she saw the tail of Christina's chiton vanish up the stairs. She disappeared round the corner, and Nina followed. Down the end of the corridor. Out into the water gardens. Through the creaking of the cicadas, wrapped in the scent of midnight jasmine, up the steps of the spiral staircase up onto the observation platform, Nina chased the vision.

Her fingers buried in the flowering vines wrapped around the trellis work, her sister stood, watching her.

"Christina…" tears rose to her eyes. "Is it really you?"

It was her sister's sweet voice that replied, one she hadn't heard in half a year: "It's me, Nina."

"But how?" she asked, her mind beginning to clear from the hall. "You're d-"

Before she could complete her thought, Christina strode toward her in long strides, to silence her with a finger to her lips.

"Don't say it. Don't think it. I'm here, aren't I?" She entwined her fingers in Nina's. "You can feel me, can't you?"

Her fingers were warm. "Y-yes," she said.

"Then don't think about it. I'm here for you." Christina pulled her close, and Nina sunk into her soft arms, felt her heartbeat, breathed in her familiar scent.

There was no way she could be here. And yet: here she was.

Nina's tears fell against her sister's collarbone. "You don't know how much I missed you. Without you, I've been so… lost," she admitted. "Everything's been going wrong."

"I know," said Christina. "That's why I came back."

"You… did?"

Christina pulled back from their embrace, hands clasped. "That, and I need a favour from you."

"Anything," Nina vowed. "I'll do whatever you need."

"That's great to hear," said Christina, giving her hands a squeeze.

"What is it?" Nina asked.

"Your body," said Christina, flashing a bright smile.

Nina faltered. "My… body?"

"Because I was thinking, since you don't need it anymore, you could let me use it. I always let you borrow my things, didn't I?"

"But… my body?" Nina repeated, puzzled.

"Because, I mean, your sister died, the man you thought you loved turned out to be a fraud—" as she spoke, she chipperly counted off the reasons on perky fingers— "you're married to a complete stranger, our father hates you, and you're going to have to leave Wyndia. So— no offence— you don't have a lot left to live for."

"None taken…" Nina mumbled.

"So you understand what I'm saying, don't you?" She inclined her head, smiling. "If you're done with it, you might as well let me have it."

"I- I guess. But…—"

If she could swap places with her sister, go back to that night and drink from that chalice in her place, Nina would do it in an instant. And yet, something about this seemed…

"In return, sister, I'll give you what you've always wanted."

She dragged her eyes up to hers. "What I've always wanted?"

In response, Christina grazed her cheek with the backs of her fingers. A gentle, tender gesture. "I've always felt you looking, sister." Nina shivered, spellbound, as Christina captured her lips under hers.

"No!" As she came to her sense, she pushed Christina from her, falling back against the trellis work, heart hammering in her chest.

"Isn't that what you always wanted?" Christina asked. "Haven't you always loved me?"

Nina turned her head away, covering her eyes. "Yes— no. That's— that's not what I wanted!"

I wanted— I wanted—

Shock seized her as Christina grabbed her, roughly, by the wrists. "Just give me your body," she demanded. "What do you need it for? You've got nothing. Nothing!" she spat. "Give it up already."

Nina uncovered her eyes to see Christina's mouth twisted into an ugly snarl as she grabbed at her, as though she wanted to tear her soul from its casing herself.

Nina came to a realisation. Strength flooded back into her voice: "You're not my sister. You're that voice inside my head. She would never, ever tell me to give up!"

As she spoke, a crack split down the semblance of her sister, dividing into fissures. Backing away, she watched with wide eyes as the ghost crumbled into ash, whisked away from the wind as though it had never been.

Nina stood on the observation desk, heartbeat thrumming like a baby bird's under her chest, alone.

Looking up to the star-studded sky, she thought that in a way, the apparition was right: I really do have nothing.

And yet, she didn't want to give up. After all, What would Christina say, if I did harm to myself?

She squeezed her fists tight, the constellations blurring like a kaleidoscope.

Even if it was painful, she'd carry on.

For her.

"Your Highness?"

The voice made her start. Quickly wiping her tears away with her sleeves, she found three men from the Kingsguard stood at the top of the stairs. "Your Highness, your mother and father were worried about where you'd gone," one of the men said.

"I came out for some fresh air," said Nina, raising her hands to the bright stars and halo of a full moon. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

"We've… been asked to escort you to your suite, Princess," said the guard.

They're afraid I was trying to run away, she realised. And it hit her: I should run away.

The fog had cleared. Everything seemed sharply, painfully clear to her now.

"Sure," she said easily, following her escort back towards the palace.

Ryu lied to me. Not even my own parents want what's best for me. I can't trust anyone. I have to rely only on myself.

In her head now, she began to map out a plan: she'd pack all of her jewellery— or all of it that was light enough to travel. Her finery would give her identity away, so she'd need somebody else's. She'd take her old travelling cloak, and—

And one of the guards escorted her into the bridal suite, a newly furnished guest room, and pulled up the door behind her. She heard the click of the lock as the mechanism slid home.

Nina whirled around, slamming her fist against the door. "What's the meaning of this?" she demanded.

The guard's muffled voice came through the door: "Apologies, Princess. His Majesty's orders."

She flew to the window and attempted to wrench it open, only to discover the shutters would not budge.

This isn't a wedding suite. This is a prison cell, Nina thought. Her father spent too much time and money on this tournament: he was leaving nothing to chance.

But that didn't mean Nina intended to give up. Sat on the dresser and spilling onto the floor were a huge pile of wedding gifts, wrapped in pretty and bright paper. Nina tore through them, searching for something she could use.

Ripping off the a card marked, Hope this will be useful. Love, great aunt Dany, Nina found what she was searching for: an expensive, and more importantly—sharp— letter opener. She could kiss fussy old aunt Dany.

Nina sunk down into the plush feather bed, draped with silk canopies, the sharp blade concealed under her hand, and she waited for her husband. If he thought she'd roll over and do whatever he wanted because they'd eaten a bit of bread and a priest had said some words, he was in for a big surprise.

Anger coursed through her, hot and liberating. She'd show them: even bent and busted, there was life in this broken princess yet!

It was past the small hours when the singing came up the corridor. Nina, who'd slipped into a doze, started, and panicked when she realised the letter opener was no longer in her hand. Furiously, she searched for it. It'd fallen from the bed, and she lent off the side and scrabbled for it, stuffing it inside the lining of a pillowcase where it would be in easy reach.

As the voices came closer, she realised they were singing a bawdy song.

"—The cock he proved false and untrue he was

For he crew an hour too so—on

My love she thought it day and she hastened me away

And it proved but the blink of the mo—on—"

Someone else, out of sync, crooned "ooooooo—oooon."

She recognised the voice of the guard who'd locked her in: "Sirs, I'm afraid I can only let the groom in here."

This was followed by a lot of grumbling. "But it's—" she heard a loud hiccough. "Tradition!"

"We gotta help our pal out and bed his bride!"

"His Majesty's orders," was the guard's stern response. A confusion of voices as everyone spoke at once, and somebody burst back into song: "…The wind it did blow and the cocks they did cro—ow…!" Slowly, the singing moved further away. The sound of footfalls on flagstones.

Nina heard the lock click. She gripped the bedspread tighter.

She was taken aback when the door opened and Raj fell into the room. He would have have hit the tiles if the guard didn't deftly duck under his arm to steady him.

"I've got you, Sir. Maybe you should lie down," the guard suggested. Next to Raj, he looked tiny, like a matchstick propping up a mountain.

When Raj entered the room, the strong scent of drink oozed in, too. Ruddy faced, with gleaming eyes, he declared, "Nonsense!" Shoving the man away with the flat of his hand, he advanced towards the bed. "There's my beautiful little bird. You waited up for me," he said amorously. Nina's lip curled in contempt. The fear was still there, underneath, but overpowering and corroding it was a growing anger. Who let her husband get in this state, on their wedding night? This was an insult!

The click of the door as the guard left. She was on her own with this foul man.

"Beautiful bird, come give us a kiss," Raj said, encroaching on her personal space.

"Stay away from me," she warned him. When he kept up his advance, she slipped over the other side of the bed and put it between them. She raised her voice: "I'm warning you."

"A feisty one, eh? We like that on the plains." Raj took her warning, if anything, as a challenge. With a playful grin, they begun a game of cat and mouse, Nina trying to keep the bed between them. When he ran one way, she ran the other.

"I promise I'll be gentle," he called.

"Ugh."

He was laughing aloud. She was trembling.

With feline agility, he pounced across the bed. She leapt from his clutches, propelling herself back with her wings, sending him into a drunken sprawl on the rug. There, he laid still and did not move.

Nina breathed out relief. He'd passed out. She sunk down with a sigh into the silken sheets, setting her back to him. She didn't want to look at him. He was a pathetic mess, and she hated how frightened he'd made her feel. I hope he chokes on his own vomit, she thought spitefully.

Now, if he could only stay unconscious until morning, she had a good chance of getting away when the servant came tomorrow with breakfast—

She was wrenched from her thoughts when strong arms wrapped around her waist. Like a rag-doll, she was picked up and thrown down on the bed, her breath knocked from her. Disorientated, she found herself pinned down by Raj.

"Caught you now, sweetheart," he said, his alcoholic breath sending her recoiling. He lent down to kiss her and she turned her head away. But he forced it back with his horrible huge hands and crushed her lips under his.

Nina tried to scream, but she couldn't breathe.

When she heard the rattle of Raj's belt buckle as he fumbled at it, she begun to panic. She kicked out, raining blows upon her husband he didn't seem to even feel.

"He—elp!" she cried out, voice strangled and shrill. She thought of the guard, stood just outside the door. "Help!"

"I'll help you, beautiful bird," said Raj, caressing her feathers in a touch that made her shiver.

The guard was stood just outside the door, but he wasn't going to help.

She remembered: I have to rely only on myself.

Everything was happening too fast. Raj was still fumbling with his belt buckle and she was reaching inside the pillow-case for the letter opener. She was shaking so hard she couldn't get her fingers to close around it. She could hardly hear anything except the sound of the blood pumping in her eardrums. Her hand closed round the handle. She could hardly think, except to think: get him off of me, get him off of me. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she lashed out with the letter opener, again and again.

The blade cut through skin and tissue with frightening ease, like a knife through butter.

When the haze cleared, Raj laid on the bed, unmoving. A burble of blood blew from his lips, and burst.

Nina crouched, utterly still for several minutes, staring at the blood soaking into the silken sheets, trying to take in what she'd just done.

Raj was dead.

Chapter Text

She'd just killed a man.

Staring at Raj's motionless body, the thought was oil on water; it wouldn't sink in. He couldn't be dead. Nina couldn't have killed him. She was gazing at a scene of a play, a page ripped out of someone else's life.

She could be hanged for this, a small voice told her. They hung murderesses out in the square. When she was a child, her nurse had taken her and Christina out into one of their rare trips into the city. They'd passed through the square, where they were hanging a woman who poisoned a cheating husband. Nina could still see her; limp as a straw doll, swaying in the breeze.

Nina's mouth was dry as ash. She swallowed, hard.

She needed to get out of the Palace. Now.

Nina came back to life, wiping the letter opener clean on a part of the sheets that wasn't dyed a new gory shade of red. She hesitated, and slipped it into the lining of her dress. Dangerous to keep it on her person if she was discovered, and yet: I refuse to be made helpless again, she thought. She'd use it again, if it came to that.

She laid down on the floor, artfully arranging her limbs as though she'd collapsed into a faint. A tongue darted over dry lips. It was now or never.

Well, Mother always told me I'm a born liar.

She cried: "Help! Please, an assassin! My husband, he's…" her own fear lent the perfect shrillness to the plea. The swift click of the lock and the guard burst in, freezing when he saw Raj's body on the bed.

"What— what happened?" he asked.

"It was a man. I don't know where he came from, or why he would do this," Nina said. "Please, you have to fetch a doctor. Quickly!"

"R-right!" said the guard, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to exit.

And Nina ran. Pounding down the stairs in the dark palace, she flung herself into her bedroom. She didn't need a light; her hands fumbled out a pillowcase from her linen chest from memory. She found her jewellery box, emptying the entire contents into the pillowcase. She emptied draws, rooting through them for valuables.

"Princess Nina?"

Nina's blood froze. Light spilled into the room, illuminating the mess she'd made; draws on the floor, books flung every which way and silk stockings like shed snake skin. She turned slowly to see Zilpah standing in the doorway with her candle, looking uncertainly from Nina to her ransacked dresser.

"I… thought I heard someone. I was afraid someone was taking your things…" she trailed off. "Um. What are you doing?"

Her hands tingled. If Zilpah alerted the guards, she'd never get out of the Palace. There was one simple way to deal with this. The letter-opener was still tucked snugly into her dress…

She'd already killed one person. What difference did one more make?

"Ur. I guess I'll head back to Eurydyke's rooms."

And yet—

"Zilpah."

The maidservant paused in the doorway. Tears rose to Nina's eyes. She saw the blood seeping into the silken sheets. I am not a murderess, she told herself.

"Please," she managed out instead, "Zilpah. I need your help."

Zilpah closed the door behind her with a click. "What do you need?"

"I'm getting out of here, Zilpah. Tonight. Now."

She expected shock. She didn't expect to see the young woman cross to her closet and start pulling out Nina's travelling cloak and sandals. "I recommend you don't fly until you're out of the Palace grounds. You'll attract too much attention," she said.

Watching Zilpah folding her clean linen took something inside Nina by storm. Her hand clasped around the Dragon Tear above her breast. It glowed a soft blue.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

"Didn't you just ask me to?" asked Zilpah, rooting through Nina's chitons, all too richly made for a princess on the run.

"Yes, but…"

"Eurydyke might be my mistress in name, but I will always be your servant, Princess," said Zilpah. Their eyes locked. "Even though you were suffering, you always treated me kindly."

A lump rose in Nina's throat. She'd taken Zilpah for granted. She'd been by her side during her worst days; the awful months after her sister's death. She'd thought herself alone, never noticing she'd had a friend by her side all along.

"You'll have to take my clothes, Princess. None of what you have here is suitable," said Zilpah, Nina watching with a thick throat as she unpinned her headwrap.

"Call me Nina," she stammered out.

Zilpah's eyes softened. "Turn around then, Nina."

She helped her out of her cumbersome bridal dress, unfastening the finicky clasps. Nina stiffened as the sound of a stampede of feet passed outside the door, pounding upstairs.

"They're not looking for you already, are you?" Zilpah asked.

Her mouth dry, suddenly feeling quite cold, she confessed: "I- I did something bad. Really bad."

Unfastening the last clasp, the forgotten letter-opener fell out, bouncing harmlessly onto the rug. Zilpah leant down to pick it up. With pursed lips, she pressed it into Nina's hands.

"This night's not over yet. Best keep hold of it," she said.

She helped Nina into the simple wrap-around chiton Zilpah wore, the kind of dress any girl in Wyndia might wear, and pinned on her head-wrap, a long piece of patterned cloth she twisted into a knot at her nape.

As Nina fiddled at it, Zilpah went through her books, and when she found the one she was looking for, ripped a page from it. It was a map, and Zilpah marked an x on it, scrawling an annotation. With a flush of embarrassment, Nina realised she hadn't even known Zilpah could write.

"They'll come looking for you," she warned her. "The Kingsguard, and probably the rangers too. You'll need a new identity. They'll be able to help you here. Seek out this person. Tell them you're a friend of Zilpah, neice of Bethesda."

Bethesda. She recognised that name from a book. And it came to her: "Bethesda? As in, one of the great western sorcerers? The Bethesda?"

Zilpah smiled coyly. "The same."

How little she knew about her maidservant. She would loved to have asked what the niece of a famous magician was doing working for the gentry. But— it was a big but— there was no time. Another stampede of feet blew past.

Nina clasped Zilpah's hands. "I'll never forget your kindness. I'll repay you one day, I promise."

"Forget that. Just hurry," said Zilpah.

So Nina hurried, making her way through the dark palace, lit dimly the ambiance of the braziers. She heard the sound of running feet, she ducked into the darkness of an alcove, pressing herself against the stone wall as two men from the Kingsguard came past.

"—An assassin? How could he have got in—?"

She kept on running, clenching the pillowcase tighter to muffle the horribly conspicuous jangling sound.

The kitchen gate was guarded. Likewise, at the gate to the servants' quarters a man stood on guard. Nina gnawed at her lip, watching from out of sight as the guard expelled a loud yawn.

There was only one other way she could think of to get out of the palace unnoticed, but it wasn't going to be fun.

Slinking through the darkness back upstairs, she slid open one of the sliding doors and slipped outside, into the courtyard. The jasmine flowers looked bright white in the stark moonlight, rustling in the breeze. Koi fish swam lazily in the pond.

It was oddly reassuring. Her world had felt like it was ending, but now she saw how despite everything, the moon still creaked across the sky. The wind still blew. Even if she was leaving her home forever, she'd still be looking up at the same, bright stars. It gave her a feeling in her chest, like, Maybe everything will be alright.

Maybe.

Nina opened her wings.

In short, controlled movements she propelled herself up, alighting upon the sloped roof as quietly as she could. Keeping her body as low as possible and tucking in her wings, she edged her way across the roof, shoving her cloak back when it tangled around her body. She pushed herself on the balls of her feet, fingernails digging into moss and dirt caught between the slates. Nina peered over the crest of the roof, over into the second courtyard, pressing herself close to to the slates when she noticed the guard patrolling by the hydrangeas. Face pressed to the mulchy moss, she didn't breathe until she heard the snck of the sliding door close as he continued his patrol indoors.

Breathing again, Nina hauled herself up and over the upside down V of the roof, slipping down the other side, feet catching on the crumbling guttering.

Painstakingly, she repeated this process, creeping round the square courtyard onto the opposite side, where she peered out over to the outer garden that bordered the palace. She waited for the patrolman to circle back round, and slipped over, opening her wings to flutter soundlessly down behind a bush.

She held an advantage. In that, security was there to prevent people attempting to break into the Palace, rather than those trying to sneak out.

Pulling the hood over her face, Nina wove her way in between the shadows to the low-lying outer wall. In a city where most of the inhabitants were winged, high walls to keep out the unwanted served little use.

Looking around one last time to make sure none of the patrollers were in eyesight, Nina spread wide her wings, and stepping up onto the wall, leapt.

Ryu woke, the bright light stinging his eyes and birdsong drilling into his head like a hangover. His first coherent thought: I feel like shit.

His throat felt so rough and dry it might have been sandpapered and his muscles ached as though he'd run a triathlon. Slowly, he begun to realise his bed wasn't the feather bed from the palace when he withdrew a piece of bracken that was stabbing into his spine. Forcing open his eyes, he stared at confusion at the stick, forcing himself up on protesting arms to gaze at the forest around him. Someone had laid a heavy sheepskin over him while he was sleeping, rough and coarse to the touch.

He'd never seen this forest before. He laid in a glade of robust oaks— at least, he thought at first it was a glade. Looking around he realised all around him there were broken trees, splintered into matchstick, a holly bush crushed.

The heavy sheepskin fleece slipped to his waist, and Ryu started when he realised that underneath, he was completely naked.

"There are clothes in the bag."

He smelled smoke. Through the wreckage of the trees, he spotted Locke sat with his back to him, cooking breakfast.

Ryu stood, clamping the sheepskin around him. The words that left his throat were hoarse and rasping: "Where are we?"

"The great western woods. You flew a long way," said Locke.

He swallowed dryly. It stung. "You mean I—?"

"Yeah."

He gazed at the trees reduced to kindling. "So I did this," he said dully.

Everything he'd felt yesterday; all of his anger and frustration— it'd been blown out like a flame. Ryu felt empty, as though the air was whistling through the exposed cracks in him.

"Sevvy and I pinned you in to stop you getting close to the any of the villages," his brother said, matter-of-fact. "And then we drove you here into the forest."

Ryu clutched the sheepskin around him tighter, knuckles whitening, shame a tight hot knot in his stomach. His voice was almost a whisper: "I… I didn't hurt you, or Sevvy, did I?"

"No."

Thank Ladon. The tension in his shoulders released somewhat. He asked: "Where is Sevvy?"

"He's flown on ahead to Dracon, to let Mother and the Council know what's happened."

Ryu picked up the sack and pulled out a worn pair of sandals, and— "This is a woman's chiton," Ryu said bluntly, holding the offending article up.

"Well, it's that or the sheepskin. You flew out into the middle of nowhere. This was all I could find," said Locke.

Ryu swallowed down the complaint. I'm hardly in any position to make demands, he thought. He imagined Sevvy meeting with Brynhildr to tell her the news: Ryu fucked up again. Goodbye to good diplomatic relations with Wyndia. He stuffed on the dress and sat down heavily by Locke at the campfire, where he was cooking a hare he'd snared. Ryu fussed at the ridiculous thing he was wearing, feeling, if possible, more naked than he'd been in the sheepskin.

Locke handed him his wineskin and Ryu stopped playing with the dress. He took a long swig from it— because damn, did he need it— before handing it back.

"Hare's almost done," said Locke.

Ryu let his eyes rise and linger on his brother as he turned the hare over. The scar he'd given him had never completely gone away.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly.

"What's done is done."

"Not just about today," Ryu said, pulling a tuft of grass and sprinkling it from his hand.

Locke passed him the larger half of the hare. "Here. The Wyvern leaves you with a hunger, I know."

"Thanks," Ryu murmured, biting into the flesh. As soon as he did, he realised Locke was right. He was starving. He took another bite, and was soon picking the bones.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry as well," said Locke.

Ryu nearly dropped his hare. Locke, apologising? He wasn't sure he ever remembered Locke apologising for anything. His older brother was unashamedly stubborn, never backed down, and never, ever said sorry.

Locke stared off into the forest. "I know I didn't handle things as well as I could have done back there, either. I should have asked for a private audience with Philip, instead of saying… what I said… quite so publicly. I know we aren't on great terms, but I trust you know it'd never be my intention to humiliate you like that."

When Locke announced to the whole hall his name was Princess Freyjr, he'd never been more incensed. But now, he could hardly recall the emotion. That part of him felt numb. Ryu snapped the leg of his hare with a satisfying crack, sucking on the marrow. "Yeah. I know you didn't," he said, tossing the sucked-clean bones into the fire, watching the sparks jump as it crackled. "You knew something like this would happen, didn't you?"

"Or something like it. Yeah."

"You were right," Ryu admitted heavily. "I should have told her." Would she have understood? Who knew? But as it was, she'd thought the whole thing was a ruse, some kind of political trick paid at her expense.

He'd told himself that he didn't have to tell her, that he shouldn't have to. But the truth was, it was all bravado. In a perfect world, he wouldn't have needed to explain. But they weren't living in a perfect world. The truth was, he'd just been too afraid she'd leave.

He'd hurt her, and he couldn't forgive himself for that.

"Well, we all make our own mistakes," Locke said.

"And some of us keep making them," Ryu said, depressed, flicking the final bone into the fire.

"And we learn from them," Locke said, diplomatically. "I know how you see yourself, Ryu. But… you have to understand. To the world, whatever you wear, you'll always be Freyja. And I don't think you'll ever break this block you have and master your Wyvern until you accept that."

Ryu should have known there would be a lecture. In any other situation, Ryu would have countered this accusation with a biting retort, but he just felt defeated. He slipped his head into his hands.

He didn't need the whole world to understand him. Just two or three people… that would be enough. Was that so much to ask for?

For as long as he could remember, his insides hadn't match his outsides. Yet the world said he was wrong.

What if it were right?

Locke sighed, tossing his bones into the fire. "Well, there's no point sitting around here. Let's go home." He stood, kicking soil over the fire. Ryu watched as the spitting flames burnt down.

They'd have chosen a new husband for Nina by now. After what had happened, he doubted she'd ever want to see him again.

"Okay…" he said, as the final flame flickered out.

Chapter Text

The light was soft and honeycomb, throwing long slender shadows down the lane. Rutted from cart wheels, it ran between the wheat fields that rose above Nina's head at either side.

When she reached the juniper tree, Nina sat down, rubbing the backs of her aching calves. She'd had no idea was possible to feel this exhausted. She'd flown until dawn, until her wings gave out. From there, she'd walked, trying to put as much distance possible between herself and Wyndia.

But now, she felt like she couldn't take a single step more. Her legs ached. Her bottom of her feet burned. Her sandals had rubbed up a blister and she could feel the tell-tale heat on the tip of nose and forehead where she'd caught the sun. Nina laid her head back and closed her eyes, listening to the incessant chirp of crickets; the buzz of the cicadas; the rustle of field mice; the never-ending clamour of life.

It would be getting dark soon, and the heat would die down. She pressed her hand to her stomach as it grumbled particular loudly. Gods, she was hungry. If she'd known it was to be her last meal, she wouldn't have turned her nose up at the wedding feast.

Her eyes were drawn to the plume of smoke rising from a modest villa set amidst the fields, most likely the home of one of the land-owners. Wisteria drooping from the red clay tile roof and a washing line hung between two pillars on the porch, it was inviting.

The rules of hospitality declared that any traveller was welcome to a home that had bread to spare. Bad luck was reserved for hosts that turned a man away, even if he was in rags. Nina had never imagined invoking such old laws, but there was a first time for everything, right?

The mental image of fresh bread crisping in the oven was enough to force Nina back up onto protesting, blistered feet.

The door to the villa stood open. Stepping up onto the porch, she called, "Hello?" Receiving no response, Nina stepped over the threshold into the courtyard, filled with a large leafy olive tree. "Anyone home?"

Clack. The sliding door slid open, and a woman with her arms full of laundry appeared, looking Nina over curiously. "You're a traveller?"

"My name is Esther. I've come from Wyndia," she said, inclining her head.

"This is the house of Aberon and his wife, Cassandra. Come in. I'll fetch the mistress." The servant slid open the door wider, to welcome her in.

After everything that had happened, the generosity of Aberon's family nearly reduced Nina to tears. She ate dinner with the family: Aberon, Cassandra and their three young children. Sat around the low table, they ate floury flatbread and dipped it in hummus, with olives picked off the tree in the courtyard. Nina had no idea something so plain could be so delicious. She told them the false story she'd prepared: that she'd been working as a maid at the palace and was now returning westward to visit her sister.

"The palace?" asked Aberon, a rotund man in his forties. A servant shuffled round quietly to refill their cups. "So you saw the tournament, then?"

"Some of it," said Nina.

The little girl lent forward over the table, asking eagerly, "Did you see who won?"

She stared at the chunk of flatbread in her hands. "Prince Ryu of Dracon," she said.

"What is the world coming to?" said Aberon with a shake of his head. As he and his family discussed the savageries of the north and how shocking it was that the northerners had even been allowed to participate, Nina's attention slipped away like a soap bubble.

Since last night, she'd been thinking only of putting one foot in front of the other. She hadn't had time— or, alright, I might as well be honest, allowed herself to think of Ryu.

He'd betrayed her, and she still couldn't understand why. Was it some political scheme she wasn't privvy to? Or part of a hilariously unamusing joke?

She, Nina reminded herself, She'd betrayed her. Though she struggled to see Ryu in that way. If Ryu was a woman, she was unlike any woman she'd ever known.

All those things Ryu said to her… were they all lies, too?

She started when she felt the warmth of Cassandra's hand on hers. "Esther… are you feeling alright?"

She quickly hoisted a smile. "I'm fine. The food is really delicious."

I won't think about him, she vowed. I don't need him. Nina tucked Ryu away in the back of her mind, along with all the other, shadowy lost people she didn't allow herself to think about.

After supper, Cassandra led her down the hall to the guest room. Nina thanked her, and as soon as she was gone, slumped into the cot in exhaustion. It would be easy to go to sleep right away, but Nina forced herself to sit up and get undressed, fingers clumsy with exhaustion as he pulled the pins from her hair. She dug the Dragon Tear from out of her chiton where it rested against her breast, and about to set it down on the wicker beside table, paused.

The Tear was no longer its neutral yellow. Instead, it shone an ugly orange.

She couldn't help but think of how it reacted yesterday around Drypetis. The malevolent, ominous purple. Her cousin… what had come over her that night? And how did she know Ryu's real identity? She's more sheltered than me.

Nina turned her attention back to the stone. She couldn't shake off the feeling that it was trying to warn her about something.

As tired as she was, Nina tied her chiton back in place and slid open the door to the corridor. She slipped out quietly. Set into an alcove, her eyes gaze lingered on an alter to the god Kaze, incense burning, the leftovers from their dinner set as an offering.

From the opposite parlour, she could hear murmurs.

"—I don't know, darling. She seems such a polite and sweet girl…" she heard Cassandra say.

And her husband: "I'm not saying she isn't. But no maidservant has those table manners."

Nina started, staring at her hands. Pale and delicate and soft as silk; the way a lady's hands should be. Had they given her away?

"Well, she has been working at the palace…" Cassandra countered.

"It's suspicious, Cass. That's all I'm saying. And if she's a runaway the Watch need to know. My good name would come to nought if if the temple found out I was harbouring girls dedicated to the sisterhood."

"Well… I admit it is strange, a young woman travelling alone like this…" Cassandra conceded.

"I'll go to the Watch, first thing in the morning," Aberon said, with the tone of resolution. "It it comes to nothing, no harm done. But—"

Nina stepped away, her heart sinking. Cassandra and her family had seemed such kind people…

Her whole body ached. Slipping back into the guest room, she lit a candle and quietly begun rummaging through the linen chest that sat at the end of the bed.

It was kind of Zilpah to give her her clothes, but Nina knew now it would do her no good. Just being a woman, alone, cast suspicion on her. So she'd have to become someone else.

Nina pulled the rough, homespun tunic over her head and kicked back on her sandals. Unpinning the rest of her hair, she let it come loose. After fumbling for some time with a length of unwieldy cloth, trying to flatten her chest as Ryu had shown her, she gave up. She stared at the cloth in her hands, trying to figure out how in the gods' names Ryu had done this piece of magic. If anything, she'd only made her chest look more bulky.

She pinned on her cloak instead, exchanging her intricate broach for a plain brass clip, considering, No wonder Ryu knew what he was talking about. Lined with fur, the cloak was thick enough to disguise the swell of her breasts.

Taking one last longing look at the warm house, Nina set down one of her earrings on top of the linen chest, enough to pay for the clothes five times over. Then she climbed onto the cot and out of the window, opening her wings to take to the sky.

She didn't stop flying until she was several dozen leagues from the place, and there instead of a soft bed, in the forest found the comfiest spot against a tree. The chill of the night was starting to seep in, and Nina pulled her cloak tighter around her. Far away, an animal howled. Again, the sense of unrealness hit her. If she were to wake up in the palace tomorrow, to find this was all some disturbing dream, she wouldn't blink an eyelid at it.

I wish… I could wake up in my bedroom, and continue living my boring life.

Except, she didn't have a room in the palace anymore. Her old life had been stolen from her. Her sister was gone.

There was nothing left for her in Wyndia.

Her only choice: to go onwards. Leaves rustling in the breeze like tin foil, she looked up at the familiar constellations through the waving branches. They were the only friends she had left.

Nina slept fitfully, and when she woke, she woke with a start, staring blearily at the golden dawn slanting through the trees. Brushing her nightmares aside, she stood, ignoring the complaints of her muscles and pulling her cloak loose from where it bunched around her.

From further into the forest, she heard someone whistling a jaunty tune. She wasn't alone.

Who else was out here in the forest, this early in the morning? Part of her urged her to walk in the opposite direction, but she hesitated. She had her disguise. Time to try it out.

Curiously, she delved deeper into the woods, following the tune. Parting the thick foliage, she paused. A small stream trickled through the forest, and sat by edge with a small fire going, a man was fishing with his back set to her.

Just as she was beginning to have second thoughts, he spoke: "Come over and have some breakfast, lad. You know, it's not safe to sleep in the woods like that without a ward. There are beasties in these parts."

Nina approached and sat by the man's side. Behind the huge brown beard, it was hard to pinpoint his age: he might have been forty, or sixty, or anything in between. His hair touched his shoulders. Thickened round the middle, his muscular arms spoke a life of physical labour.

"What's a ward?" Nina asked.

"You are green, aren't you boy?" laughed the stranger, a deep boom from deep in his gut. From the leather napsack by his side, he pulled out a bookmark-shaped talisman made of woven fibres. Embroidered onto it was a rune, one of the marks of power used by the wizards which she recognised from the books she and her sister secretly perused as children. The stranger handed it to her, and she turned it over carefully in her hands. "Keeps the beasties away. Kind of distracts them from you, like."

"You can buy these?"

"Yeah, you can. Though the craftmanship can be dubious. I make my own."

Nina stared at him. "You're a wizard?"

The man laughed his big booming laugh. "Not in the slightest. But any folk with a drop of magic in his body can cobble together something like this." Nina handed the ward back to him. "I should introduce myself. Name's Bunyan. I look after the woods. Live a couple days west of here, but I come out a few times a month to check on things here. What about yourself?"

"Aric," she said. "I'm travelling west, too."

"And it's your first time away from home, is it?" When she opened her mouth to protest, he laughed. "Yeah, I can tell. It's clear you don't know what in the Gods' name you're doing. You looked frozen half to death when I saw you. Why didn't you start a fire?"

"I— uh…" she trailed off. What did she know about starting fires?

Bunyan spoke a little more kindly, now. "Well, we all have to start somewhere. Where is it you're headed to, lad?"

Nina pulled out the crumpled page from her pocket and handed it to the woodsman, showing him the place Zilpah marked on it.

"You know how to get there?" Bunyan asked.

"Go… west? Past this squiggly bit here?"

"You need to pass through the western woods and the marshland and cross the pass, here." He stabbed the map with a thick finger. "On foot, I'd say it'd take you about a fortnight."

"A fortnight?" The hopelessness she felt must have shown on her face, because Bunyan placed a calloused hand on her shoulder.

"Tell you what. We're heading the same way, so you may as well stick with me a while, eh?"

Nina hesitated. She'd thought it safer to travel on her own, and yet, she'd barely made it through one night on her following that dichotomy. She'd assumed she could slip into a new identity like a fresh pair of clothes, but in the new light of day she saw the truth: she was a spoiled, pampered princess, and she could use any help that was offered to her.

"Is that alright?" she asked.

"Well, as it is, if I left you I'd feel like I was abandoning a babe in the woods. So ye'd best come with me. Aric, was it?"

The Dragon Tear shined a soft turquoise. Somehow, it made her feel like she could trust this gruff woodsman.

"You have my thanks," said Nina.

There was a tug at the line. "Ah, good timing. Here's breakfast," said Bunyan.

For the next three days, until they reached Bunyan's home, she and woodsman travelled together. He was of a solitary nature and preferred silence to idle chit-chat. When he spoke, it was because he was showing her something, whether that was how to build a fire, weave her own ward, or pointing out the various edible fungi that grew in the woods. Seeming to realise the extent of her ineptitude, he often paused in what he was doing, and would motion Nina over to quietly observe. He even showed her how to make her own fishhooks, and the basics of fishing. When she got her first bite, her elation was tempered with sadness.

Ryu had promised that one day, he would take her fishing. She'd laid in bed imagining it: sitting by his side in a new land, his arm around her, fingers entwined in hers as he showed her how to thread the lure. A possible future now extinguished.

He was probably lying about that too, she told himself, as she put him from her mind.

Bunyan was well-known and liked in these parts, and though two nights they camped in the forest where the woodsman was at home, one evening they spent the night at the house of his friends. A far different bunch than the family she'd approached before, they were farmers and manual labourers, full of gruff and easy charm. Bunyan introduced her to them as, "A lad I found in the woods."

His friends laughed. Someone said, "Another stray, Bunyan?"

The night was filled with drinking and laughter, Nina choking down the strong malty ale, so different from the fine wines purveyed at the palace. Spluttering into a coughing fit, she felt the rock hard hand of man slam against her back.

"Hey, remember to breathe, youngster," he said. "You're not an ale drinker, then?"

"N-no," Nina spluttered.

"Where'd you pick this one up, eh Bunyan?" the man called across the table.

"Sleeping in the woods without a ward or a fire."

This was met by uproarious laughter. "Yer lucky some eye goo didn't use your head as a chew toy," the man said, slamming Nina on the back in a fond gesture and nearly sending her headfirst into the table.

Nina slipped into this role easily—the green lad, ineptly venturing forth on his first adventure into the world. She'd prepared a cover story for Aric, but was surprised how little she needed to use it. As a woman she was constantly badgered about where she was going. What she was doing. As a man, her destination, past and identity were "his business." Nina had never been allowed the luxury of owning "his business," and found she rather liked it.

Where had she got, being Princess Nina? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all to become someone else.

She still struggled creating enough friction to kickstart a camp fire, but little by little she was getting better. With the embroidery she'd learnt as a child, creating a ward was easy.

"Well, look at that. You're a natural," said Bunyan, as she wove the leather strips into the shape of the rune. He'd explained: "Wizards have a whole alphabet of these things, but the common man might need only make use of a handful. This one here is a master mark, for protection."

When she tied the ward off, the mark on glowed a bright blue. She nearly dropped it in shock.

"It— it's working!" she cried, turning to Bunyan in excitement. "I can do magic!"

Bunyan laughed heartily. "Well, of course you can."

"You knew?"

"Sure. As soon as I saw ya. Some people have an innate talent for magic, and you're one of them. You mean to say nobody ever told you?"

Magic had always been looked down upon in Wyndia, but from six months ago, it had been completely forbidden in the city.

"No…" she said.

Her, a magician?

How much more didn't she know about herself? She ran her thumb across the glowing talisman, wondering.

"Sorry lad, but this is where I leave you."

They stood at the edge of the forest Bunyan called home. He directed her eye down the dirt track that bordered th edge of the wood. "If you follow that path, it'll take you to a village, say, half a day's walk from here. You can buy a horse there, which I recommend. When your ward breaks you'll need to make a new one, but I trust you'll have no trouble with that, eh?"

Nina smiled brightly. "Is there anything I can give you?" she asked.

"Nah, don't worry about that. Helping travellers… it's kind of what I do. Everyone stumbles, once in a while. I like to give folk a leg up."

"Thank you, Bunyan."

"Good luck, Princess," the woodsman said, turning away and shouldering his pack.

A breeze began to blow.

Nina stood, stock still. "You knew? All this time?"

Bunyan paused, twisting his head back to look at her. Eyes twinkled. "I know everything that happens in my wood. My leaves catch every whisper."

No— Nina thought. It couldn't be—

The wind picked up, leaves flying from the branches.

"I know you'll beat her," Bunyan said. "You're stronger than She is."

Whipping up more fiercely, a whirlwind of leaves blew round Bunyan, encasing him. When they whirled away, the woodsman had vanished.

Nina stared at the space where the god had stood, unblinking.

She made her way down the dirt path, alone. Birds tweeting, jumping from tree to tree in the sunlight that shafted in through the branches, Nina felt inside a tentative optimism.

Twisting around, Nina glanced back behind her. Stood in the lane, in the shadows beneath interlocking fingers of branches, her sister stood, watching her.

Shuddering in the sunshine, Nina tore her gaze away. She had to go forward, because she couldn't go back.

Princess Nina continued west. Some one hundred leagues away, the other side of the wood, Prince Ryu and his brother rode north. Thus, they brushed past one another, and did not meet.

End of Act 1.