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“Are we scrapping, sparrows?” she said, raising her chin. “I love a good fight before bed.”

Andry’s heartbeat quickened. He wanted to go, to move them all along, but he stayed rooted to the sand beneath his boots. If his friends were in danger, he wanted to be ready.Not like the temple. Here I can stand my ground.

Instead Corayne caught him beneath the arm, pulling him along.

“C’mon, let them be,” she said, urging him back to camp. “Even the Falcons aren’t brave enough to take on Sigil and Dom alone.”

“They may be stupid enough,” Sorasa said from his opposite side.

“You should be careful, Sorasa,” Corayne muttered. She looked around the camp, at the dozens of Falcon soldiers taking up their posts or sleeping. “They really do want you dead.”

Andry nodded, fixing Sorasa with a firm look. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”

She stared at them both, stone-faced. “Your concern is insulting,” she said, waving them away.

Corayne and Andry returned to their cloaks and saddlebags, eager for sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable place Andry had ever slept, but he certainly didn’t mind. His limbs seemed to melt into the sand as he lay back, shutting his eyes to the clear blue sky.

She was almost too close, one hand only inches from his own, their fingers near to brushing. He needed only shift to touch her, to take her hand and squeeze. Their disagreement earlier still stung, twisting his insides.

Tell her it’s going to be all right. Tell her we can do this. Even if you don’t believe in it, believe in her.

Andry looked out through slitted eyes, only to find Corayne already fast asleep, her face slack, her lips parted. The wind stirred over her, blowing a single strand of black hair over her cheek. It took all his restraint as a courtly squire not to push it away. Even looking at her felt like a step too far.

He tore his gaze away, his eyes passing over the camp.

At the base of the dune, the Falcons knelt in the sand, a figure in a brown cloak among them. After a long moment, Andry realized it was Charlie.

He was kneeling too, his hands raised toward the sun. With his hood lowered, he looked younger. There were splotches of sunburn across his cheeks, and his brown braid trailed past his shoulder blades, freshly woven. It was almost easy to forget that the fugitive priest was only a few years older than Andry. He had lived so much life already.

His lips moved, and though Andry could not hear his voice, it was easy to guess.

Charlie was praying, and the Falcons prayed with him.

To which god, Andry did not know.

It will not hurt to try them all,he thought, shutting his eyes again. With a deep breath, he began the names.

Syrek. Meira. Lasreen. Fyriad...

5

The Ice Always Wins

Ridha

The princess of Iona took a liking to Dyrian’s bear, and little else in Kovalinn. Autumn in the fjord was like deepest winter in Calidon, and snow fell almost every day, blanketing the immortal enclave in white. It glittered in the morning sun, a beautiful hindrance. Ice choked the fjord, and Ridha spent many days breaking it apart with the other Vedera, keeping the water clear for ships. So did Dyrian’s bear, who took to prancing along the shattered edge, bashing at the ice floes with his massive paws. But more ice bloomed overnight, spreading with the cold.

Kesar joined Ridha today, a long, spiked ax in hand like the rest of them. Her topaz cheeks flushed in the cold; the rest of her body swaddled in leather and fur. Despite her centuries in the north, Kesar was of Salahae, far south in Kasa, and the deserts of Glorian before it. Though she’d spent long years in the cold, her years in the sun were longer still.

“You have no love for this weather,” Ridha said, watching her work. They all stood on planks built out over the water, supported docks to allow ice-breaking without any risk of dropping into the fjord.

Today Kesar’s black-and-gray locks were pulled back, tucked into a fur hat. She stabbed her ax into the ice, and a long fissure cracked through the white like a bolt of lightning.

“Observant, Princess,” Kesar replied, smiling.

Ridha drove her own poleax into the ice. She leaned against it, peering at the older Veder. “Then why remain here?”

“In Glorian, I was a soldier. In Salahae, I was a teacher. In Kovalinn, I am right hand to the Monarch. Why would I leave?” Kesar said, shrugging.