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She will freely return to the monotonous tasks of her former life. She will take up the war against impending death, the fight against the mountain for food and wood and warmth. But this time, she will know of lands below where people turn their faces away from the mountain, forgetting its existence entirely.

Not yet, though. For now, she will sleep and sleep. She will rest her body and accept the comfort and try to commit the feel of it to memory. On nights when the frost creeps beneath her clothes and the hearth can’t help her, she will draw on thoughts of luxurious beds and impenetrable walls.

The sound of the door creaking open has her sitting upright in a flash.

“Dawsyn?” comes Ruby’s voice through the crack.

Dawsyn relaxes, sighs. “Yes, I’m here.”

“May I come in?”

How she wishes she could say no, but Ruby peeks her head around the frame of the door, and it is clear she has not slept. There are deep shadows beneath her eyes, tendrils of deep brown hair hang limp around her face, having escaped the tight knot she keeps at the back of her head. It seems she has been as anxious to learn of the Council’s decision as Dawsyn had been.

Dawsyn slides her body to the edge of the bed. She cannot bring herself to send the captain away. “Come in,” she says.

Ruby closes the door behind her, then twists her hands together. “Have you heard anything? Will the Council help us free the Ledge people?”

Dawsyn appraises her before answering. She sees the red rawness of her eyes, the set of her jaw, the tension she holds in her clasped fingers. She looks older than she should this way. A woman untravelled. An easy target in such a hostile place. A woman of some standing with an honourable position in her Queen’s court. It would have been so much easier for her to remain in Terrsaw.

“You actually care about them, don’t you?” Dawsyn asks.

A line appears between Ruby’s eyes. She appears confused. “I’ve told you as much.”

“It is odd of you to do so,” Dawsyn comments. “They are no responsibility of yours. You don’t know any of them. You cannot claim tolikethem.”

“And doyoulike them?” Ruby replies. “I can’t imagine you admiring anyone at all.”

Dawsyn’s lips quirk at their corner. “There are some I am fond of… and some I am not.”

“And will you forsake the ones you find unlikeable?”

Dawsyn shakes her head, more to herself than to the captain. She has, it seems, come to admire Ruby, despite knowing the danger of it, for Queen Alvira is not witless. Her captain could still prove an enemy.

But Dawsyn watches Ruby pace impatiently and finds it improbable.

“I’m afraid all of them will be forsaken,” Dawsyn says finally, making Ruby halt in her tracks. “The Council voted. They will not lend us any of the mixed to help free them.”

The captain’s chest deflates. “But… why?” she asks. “You said they were unlike the pure-blooded.”

“Yes.” Dawsyn nods. “But I’ve found that humans and Glacians alike do not willingly take responsibility for lives that are not their own, the exception being yourself.”

“And Ryon?”

Dawsyn feels her chest cinch tighter. “Yes… and Ryon.”

Ruby lets out an indignant sound, resuming her pacing. “Is that it, then? Is there nothing to be done?”

“There is much to be done,” Dawsyn corrects. “But the only thing thatyoumust do, is return to Terrsaw.”

The captain’s head whips around. “What?”

“Ryon will take you off the mountain,” Dawsyn explains. “I have already arranged it with him.”

“In case you were slow on the uptake, Sabar, I committed high treason to come here.”

“Which the Queens needn’t know,” Dawsyn argues. “Tell them we held you hostage, and you escaped. Tell them you killed me, if you’d prefer. Her highness may even throw a parade for you.”

Ruby gives a huff of derision. “I will be stoned to death in the street by the townsfolk, and you know it.”