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But standing in front of her closet mirror, turning to admire the cinched-in curve of her waist and silently acknowledging that the boots did in fact make her legs look longer, Taly couldn’t say she hated the result.

Especially when she came down the stairs, and Skye’s breath hitched, a slow heat sparking in his gaze as he traced the line of her body. Lingering on the glimpse of skin revealed by the few buttons Aimee had insisted she leave undone.

“Well, there’s a familiar face.” He caught her hand and spun her, making her sway a little on the too-high heels. He caught her around the waist, steadying her. “Flawless, actually. And I suppose the glamour’s good too.”

Taly snorted. “You do realize that’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

He grinned, utterly unrepentant. “I’ll workshop it.” His fingers brushed one of her curls, absently twining the end around his fingertip. “Not going to lie—seeing you makes me feel a little better about this plan. Not by much, but enough.”

She arched a brow. “That almost sounds like optimism.”

“Let’s not go crazy.” His voice dropped a fraction, fingers grazing the curve of her breast as he tucked the curl back into place. “Besides, I figure it’s only fair I buy you dinner before anything more... elaborate.”

His slow smile evoked images of tangled sheets and whispered promises in the dark.

“Are you two planning to get a room, or are we leaving sometime tonight?” Kato grumbled.

And just like that, the moment shattered.

“Last chance to forget this and go upstairs,” Skye whispered.

“You’re not getting out of this,” she replied just as softly.

As much as she wanted to find out if the third time really was the charm, freedom beckoned.

The look he gave her said she couldn’t blame a man for trying.

“About damn time,” Kato griped and followed Aiden out the front door. “Why do women always take so long?”

Every shop was open as they walked down the familiar streets, the sky already deep with stars.

The sidewalks pulsed with motion—families drifting home, couples lingering by food carts, laughter rising from clusters of strangers.

Musicians played on street corners, and entertainers delighted children with flurries of butterflies pulled from the tips of water wands.

Taly wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting.

People sleeping in the streets, maybe. Just a general feeling of sadness and malaise.

Beyond the walls, war raged, but inside them, life went on.

She might not have known there was any fighting at all if not for the posters on every lamppost urging citizens to do their part or the signs above grocery stores announcing ration limits.

And at some point, though she couldn’t say when, she stopped looking over her shoulder.

She stopped waiting for someone to see through the glamour and the calamity that would surely ensue.

In a group of Highborn—Skye on one side, Aimee on the other, with Kato and Aiden walking ahead—she was the least interesting one here.

She was invisible. As a human, she’d hated it. Now people’s eyes slid right off her, and she breathed easier.

Eventually, they found themselves standing in a huddle inside the entrance of Taly’s favorite bar—a cramped little dive tucked away in a narrow alley.

The walls were papered with old flyers, the firelamps flickered, and the shadowed doorway in the back led to a truly disgusting set of washrooms. But the food was always delicious, warm, and served in enormous portions, and, most importantly, they allowed Shardless.

A Lowborn with tattoos up his neck, a long scar on his face, and a shock of white hair held out a hand as they entered. “You four can go on in,” he grunted. “Taly, I need you to stay here.”

“What the hell, Rox?” Taly exclaimed, teeth chattering. Kato was still holding the door open, and the wind tunneling down the alley was biting. “Since when do you turn away Shardless?”

Rox squinted at her with his good eye. “I didn’t say you couldn’t come in. New policy. With all the sick humans, boss wants you lot checked for signs of infection.”

Reaching into his tattered coat, Rox produced a thin, rectangular pane of glass with a row of earth crystals set into the side. A vitalis. It could scan body temperature, heart rate, and other vital signs the glamour couldn’t disguise—all of which would show Taly as being distinctly not human.

Taly sent a panicked look to Aiden. “What is he talking about?”

“Infection rates among mortals have been up,” Aiden explained. “It’s nothing unusual considering the current world state, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t nervous.”

Rox shook the vitalis, fiddling with the buttons. “I can never get this damn thing to work,” he muttered as Skye slid a protective arm around Taly. Kato was already backing out the door, ready with an excuse.

“I, uh, think I told Eula the wrong place. We should probably—”

Aiden stepped forward, taking the vitalis from Rox. “Here, let me,” he said. “I’m a healer. These things are finicky even when they’re working.”

Aiden turned, giving Taly a wink as he held the device to her forehead. The crystals flashed, and he looked at the screen, pressing a few buttons to edit the entry. He was done in seconds. “All good,” he said, returning the vitalis to Rox.

Rox squinted at the screen. “Can you… can you show me how you did that?” Aiden nodded, happy to stay behind and sell the deception as they filed past.

A ratty red curtain hung across the entrance to the main room. Behind it, Skye led them through the cramped maze of people and tables to a small patio where they found an empty table overlooking the street. Music thrummed, a raucous, upbeat tune that had the people outside dancing as they went by.

Aimee eyed the table, grimacing. It was clean, if a bit battered, but just for good measure, she sent a wave of water whisking across the surface. As well as the benches. And the floor. And the ceiling, working away the dried-out wads of gum stuck there by air mages over the years.

Kato snorted, hanging his overcoat on a nearby hook.

“What?” Aimee snapped at him. She’d taken Taly’s advice and changed into wide-legged slacks, which of course had the effect of making her even more stunning.

“Nothing,” Kato said, chuckling. “Absolutely nothing.” He pointed at Taly. “Drink?”

“Many,” she answered as Skye took her coat. When he leaned in to kiss her cheek, his hand flattened against the exaggerated curve of the bodice.

“You wore this to torture me, didn’t you?” he whispered as fragmented images appeared in her mind’s eye.

Corset strings popping… Ripping away the rest of those buttons… His fingers stroking the smooth skin between her breasts…

She had to take a breath to settle the flutter in her heart and the ache blooming lower—and then she quietly shut that door that had opened between their minds.

There was no point lingering. The bond would have to be broken eventually. That much hadn’t changed, even if everything was out in the open now.

Skye trailed after Kato toward the bar.

“Shut up,” Taly muttered when Aimee began to chuckle softly. “We’ve already established you were right about the clothes, so just… shut up.”

Aiden eventually managed to pry himself away from Rox, and soon after, the food began pouring out.

The long table quickly filled up with bowls of steaming broth, plates piled high with thick noodles, pickled vegetables, and fried dumplings for dipping.

With the new rationing system, there might not have been much variety, but what they did have, they had in spades.

Kato slid onto the bench, balancing a tray of glasses filled with clear liquor. “Hey, I told the bartender that you were the Savior, and he gave us free drinks.”

Taly’s gaze snapped to him. “Why would you do that?”

“Sorry,” Skye said, sliding in beside her. He gave her an apologetic look. “He was alone for ten seconds and managed to tell half the bar.”

Heads were already turning their way as the news began to spread.

The Savior of Ebondrift was here. The girl from the relay—she was alive.

They weren’t looking at her friends anymore. They were looking at her . She was no longer invisible. A spotlight had snapped on directly above.

Skye placed a drink into her hand—something amber, fizzing faintly at the top. “Breathe,” he said quietly. “You’re fine.”

Taly tried. She really did. But there were eyes everywhere. Every time her gaze met another, it flinched away.

The attention made her vision ripple at the edges, like heat off pavement. Premonitions crashed over each other, gold on gold, overlapping in a restless tangle.

“Don’t worry,” Skye said, nudging her. His tone was casual, but he was watching her closely. “If the glamour flickers, we can tell everyone about that horde of shades you fought off single-handedly and how it left you with some gruesome scars .”

Did he really have to raise his voice for that?!

“I’m sure it’ll make you even more famous,” he added with a grin.

Instantly, the story caught on and swept the room. Damn Fey and their hearing. Skye only laughed harder when she elbowed him.

Apparently, everyone had decided the glamour was working. Though, even if it flickered at this point, Skye had already given them something else to believe.

Then Taly made a mistake. She sipped the ale. “Oh my Shards, that’s awful.”

While she was still recovering from the taste—something between burnt barley and swamp water—Kato went on, “Face it, Taly. You’re a celebrity.

And if people want to buy their Savior a drink—and maybe a few for her friends—then I say, who are we to stop them.

” He plunked the last glass down in front of Aimee.

“Sorry, princess, but they didn’t have anything pink. ”

Aimee picked the fruit from the rim. Even though she was looking up at him, she still somehow managed to peer down her nose. “Sounds like you didn’t try hard enough.”

Taly exhaled slowly. She could do this. Just sit, just exist. Like anyone else.

This was, after all, the warm-up. A test run. A chance to get it right before the real pressure set in.

Admiration made people generous. It softened their gaze, let them overlook what didn’t quite fit. At Kalahad’s party, there would be no such mercy. Every glance would be measured, every move subject to scrutiny.

Around her, conversation carried on as if nothing had changed. Skye passed her a serving spoon, and she realized everyone had already begun piling their bowls with noodles.

All except for Aimee. Sitting on the other side of Taly, she peered at the thick brown broth in her bowl like it might bite her.

“It’s called oshi,” Taly explained. “It’s made with anything in the kitchen that’s leftover. Bones, vegetable peels, shells—it all goes into the pot for the broth, and while the end result looks like sludge, it tastes good.”

“Almost good enough to make me forget how terrible the liquor is,” Kato added around a mouthful of noodles.

“Be happy you have any liquor at all,” Aiden shot back. “My uncle wasn’t exactly keen on the earth mages prioritizing alcohol—until I pointed out that a drunk population can’t stay on their feet long enough to mutiny.”

“Well then.” Kato stood, raising his glass. “To the man that saved us all from the existential horror of sobriety.”

Then those amber eyes slid to Taly. She shook her head in warning.

Kato’s grin only widened. “And to the lady of the hour—our SAVIOR .” He shouted the last word, giving up any pretense of keeping a low profile. “The girl that managed to survive long enough for someone to come find her. Taly, of all the damsels I’ve had to rescue, I like you the least.”

Taly felt the ripple of attention sweep over her again, like needles pricking at her senses. But she took a breath—if this was the cost of stepping back into the world, of belonging, then so be it.

Hanging her head, she stood to the round of applause from the table, which drew even more clapping—plus a few hoots and whistles—from the rest of the bar.

She gave a bow to the table, then a grand wave to the room.

Through a too-sweet smile, she grit out, “I hate you all. Especially you .” She kicked Skye’s shin beneath the table, which only made him clap louder.

“Also, while we’re toasting,” she added, picking up her glass. “To Kato’s balls. Because if you ever call me a damsel again, I’m going to reach down your throat and pull them out through your mouth.”

Kato tipped his head back and laughed, even as Aimee lifted her glass and proclaimed with too much enthusiasm, “ Hear! Hear! ”

With that, they all knocked back their glasses.

“Holy shit, that’s fucking terrible,” Taly wheezed. She had to take a sip of ale just to get the taste out of her mouth, then remembered, that wasn’t any better. “Are you really responsible for this, Aiden?”

“You know what, fuck you, Taly!” Aiden barked, grinning widely. “It might not be good, but it gets the job done.”

Taly lifted her glass again. “To the slogan for Aiden’s new brewery.”

Aimee sniffed. “Accurate branding, at least.”

The others raised theirs in turn. The room was still watching. But the more they laughed, the more she drank, the less anything else mattered.