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Nose-to-nose, they traded words.

Many times, I had been tempted to teach that rogue a physical lesson on my friend’s behalf, refraining only because it would offend Nicu, making him feel like a helpless child. Yet I must have begun to seethe, because the wooden girl grabbed my shoulder.

“Give them a minute,” she said.

“This coming from someone who thrives on knowing everyone’s weak spots, so that she might use them to advance herself. A ringleader with minions, was it?”

“That’s different. They’re not Nicu.”

“You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”

“Fight me on it.”

“I shall tonight, and you shall lose.”

She fisted her outrageous hips. “We’ll see about that, bucko.”

I marveled how abruptly this maiden had shifted my mood when, moments ago, I’d been preparing to slice Lyrik in half.

Our humor vanished as Nicu stormed past us, heading in the opposite direction of Lyrik’s indifferent footfalls. This time, I had to clasp the girl’s lumber shoulder to keep her from trailing after Nicu.

“Let him be,” I said. “He’s heading toward a dead end.”

Three days hence, the liquid flames inside the lanterns had been replaced, their caps removed. Along the colony’s pathways, dyed vapors now flowed from the vessels and bled into the air. Each frothing shade—orange, red, yellow—marked routes, steam lighting the way like trail markers.

The vapors glowed close enough to one another for Nicu to distinguish, much like the ribbon garlands in the castle, but were also set far enough apart that it challenged him. This allowed my friend more freedom, without disregarding his needs altogether.

Nicu took in the splendor, a wondrous grin splitting his face.

When I passed Lyrik’s potion room later, I halted and glanced inside, to where he stirred something in his gurgling cauldron. I crossed my arms, waiting.

Keeping his eyes on the brew, Lyrik merely said, “Got tired of him slowing us down.”

***

The lumber maiden sat sideways by the indoor, circular hearth, rubbing a device down the length of her exposed calves. Our escapades in the glade had resulted in splinters across her woodskin. She amended the damage, using the apparatus to polish the blemishes back into a smooth canvas.

Her skirt splayed high on her thighs. Though Lyrik and Nicu had no reaction to the indecency, I longed to ask her to cover herself, but I couldn’t find the words. Particularly not when she buffed those limbs clean of dust, then chased those paths with a varnish cloth. It stained her woodskin back to its previous complexion, the firelight bathing her knees, a strand of grains sprinkled around the knobs of her ankles.

My throat bobbed. She exchanged words with our companions, though I had no idea what about.

Absently, she reached around, searching while talking. I plucked a second cloth, smeared with a thick paste to seal the stain, and handed it to her.

Our fingers brushed.

***

“Faster,” I commanded.

“Harder,” I instructed.

“Focus,” I demanded.

She insisted that she couldn’t, and I answered that she could, no longer tolerating her whining. Wielding had advanced to throwing, in which I showed her how to maintain an overhead position and deploy the axes so they rotated once while flying. I’d declared a tree stump standing a few leagues away as her target, and she had achieved the rudiments...even if she had yet to actually hit something.

I stationed myself behind her, my hands light on her waist. “Throw again.”

She pointed to the target. “Stand over there and I will.”