I was impressed with how well Arthur and Rosalie could navigate out here in the pitch black. Then again, they did seem to be from around here, so perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising that we made it back to the hills nearby Hath Church End before the half cloud-covered sky held any more than a handful of stars. Arthur landed in the shadow on the near side of the hills, out of sight of the hamlet, and I followed his lead. Rosalie jumped down from his back and rummaged through a large pack I only now noticed was strapped to his side, eventually retrieving a folded square of white linen, which she tossed to Arthur.

  ?Why have we stopped here?? I asked.

  Arthur gave me a glance that was surprisingly sheepish. ?Well, you know, it’s a small village,? he said. ?I’d like for them not to know about…all this—? he swept his wings wide ?—if possible.?

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ?Aren’t they going to know anyway? We’re a little big to hide, unless you have a way into that attic in the church and just stay there all day.?

  ?N…no?? he said, utterly confused. ?I can just—actually, give me a second. I’d like to talk normally, if we can.?

  He reared up and wrapped the cloth loosely around his body. It was large enough to encircle him from his chest to his tail, almost like a white robe. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Rosalie turned to look away as he did.

  He let out a second breath, but with this one, white smoke, or maybe steam, puffed from his nostrils in a continuous cloud. It looked for a second like he was shrinking, his shoulders gradually sinking towards the ground, before steam vented out from in between his scales as well, creating a dense fog in a small burst around him. Then it was clear he was definitely shrinking. Through the fog, I could see his wings and tail recede, merging with his body. He stood up on his hind legs, now his only legs, and stretched his arms out as his antennae and all the armoured plates and sleek scales vanished, leaving behind cool coppery human skin and wavy black hair atop his head that fell down to his shoulders. By the time the fog dissolved in the air, he was human again save for his ears, which remained long and pointed with blue patches of scales on them, and his eyes, which held onto their fiery orange hue, and he properly wore the blanket as a robe.

  He reached a hand out towards Rosalie. “Done,” he said aloud, his voice a step or three higher than what I had heard when he was a dragon. “Water, please.”

  Rosalie finally turned back around, holding a canteen out towards Arthur. He snatched it up and tilted it back, seemingly intent on draining it dry in one go. When he finally pulled away, it sounded empty.

  “Okay,” he said, seemingly out of breath after his long swig. “I’m going to go get dressed, then you can use the towel to turn back yourself.”

  He started to trudge towards the church. I finally broke out of my stupor and held out a hand. ?Whoa, wait!? I said. ?How did you do that??

  Arthur paused. “Can you not?” he asked.

  ?No, of course I can’t, or I wouldn’t have asked,? I snapped. ?If I could have just turned human again this whole time, this wouldn’t have been such a big problem!?

  Arthur grimaced and tapped at his ear, making it twitch. “Well, I’m not completely human still,” he muttered. “How long has it been since you first changed?”

  ?A day,? I said. Wow. It felt like it had been more like a week by then, but we’d only escaped the temple last night.

  “Ohhh, okay, that makes sense, then,” he said. He pinched his chin in thought. “How do I describe it…? It’s sort of like how we talk as dragons, except it’s more of a pull than a push. It’s hard to explain exactly, sort of like I’m trying to tell you how to move your arm. You just have to…will it, I guess.”

  He must have noticed the lost look on my face because he steepled his fingers and looked me in the eye. “If it helps, the way I visualise the whole thing is as if the ‘human’ part of me is buried under all the ‘dragon’ parts, and I’m pulling it up to the surface.” He snapped his fingers. “Like fishing! Yeah, that’s good. Like you’re reeling in your own self so you can pull it out of the water where you can see it.”

  He let his hands swing free at his sides. “Does that help any?” he asked.

  ?…Maybe?? I offered.

  “Great!” Arthur gave me a bright smile and a thumbs-up. “I’ll be back in a minute then, and you can give it a try.”

  I laid down on the grass as he left for the church. I tried to conjure up the visual he mentioned. I closed my eyes and pictured myself standing in a boat over an endless sea, staring down into the water. So, the real “me” is down there somewhere, I thought. All I’ve got to do is bring her up.

  Grace sat down cross-legged on the ground, leaning against my side. “So, Ms. Lecerf,” she said ponderously. “Do you have a title we should call you? ‘Madame,’ ‘my lady,’ ‘baroness…’?”

  Rosalie shook her head. The corner of her mouth twitched into a faint smile, and I got the sense that that was pretty much the best we could get out of her for now. “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’m not exactly at the forefront of our family, and thus, I’ve no title at the moment. Just ‘Rosalie’ is fine.”

  “How about ‘Rosa’?” asked Grace.

  “Absolutely not,” said Rosalie. “We barely know each other.”

  The chill wind cut through the silence that followed, accompanied by the rumble of thunder. I looked north to see the dense clouds that had begun to cover the sky were hanging low in the distance. Lightning flashed from within them continuously, like an army of riflemen firing randomly at anything they could see, every now and then hitting their mark as a bolt lanced into the ground. The howl of the rising gale made the wooden church steeple creak even louder, audible from all the way up here.

  I stared at my hands and tried to quieten the dull roar of fear that had blossomed in the back of my head with the thunder. I flinched at every crack of thunder. The other two definitely noticed, as much as I wished they wouldn’t. Grace put a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t want that right now.

  Arthur finally arrived back just as the drizzle that preceded the storm began to pelt down on us, now dressed in a slim brown cloak with a hood that covered his ears and functional trousers with the belt hanging halfway off. He hurriedly tossed the linen cloth towards me.

  “Have you got ready?” he asked.

  ?Not sure,? I answered, ?but I’ll try.? I stepped several paces away from everyone else and wrapped the—by now, soaked—towel around myself, then stood high and closed my eyes, going back to that boat over the ocean. I thought about my human self sitting at the very bottom of the water, just like my dream last night, wished a rope into my hands, and tugged.

  I immediately felt the effects in my gut, like the aftereffects of a full-strength punch during a street brawl. I wobbled on my feet, but at least I could feel something there, and knowing I was on the right track, I pulled harder, giving it all the will I could spare. It wasn’t a fast process, but gradually the rain began to feel like icy pellets against my skin as it heated and turned numb. Steam erupted from my body, and it felt like every bit of the water I’d had that day dried up all at once. I sank to the ground, landing on my hands and knees as my claws sank into normal fingernails, and the brown scales that had once covered them melted into my normal pinkish skin, freckled and tanned under the eye of thousands of suns.

  I stood, breathless, feeling the sides of my head and my torso. Everything was gone, except for my ears, just like Arthur. They were still long and scaly, and I could still move them like I could as a dragon. But that was the only reminder that I had spent any time at all like that. I felt like crying, and for the first time in over a day, I actually could. Tears of relief merged with the raindrops as they slid down my face.

  Arthur was suddenly standing over me, offering me a canteen. I took it and greedily drank until my thirst was quenched, then I handed it back to him.

  “Thank you,” I said. My voice was croaky and hesitant. It felt strange to be speaking out loud again after a day of only growls, roars, and hums leaving my mouth.

  “Yeah, no problem,” said Arthur. He held out his hand, and I accepted it as he helped me get to my feet. Grace was at my side as soon as I was standing again.

  “Belfry, are you okay?” she asked in a rush. “How do you feel?”

  I flinched under the impact of a particularly heavy raindrop. “Wet,” I said.

  “She has a point,” agreed Rosalie. “This isn’t the weather for idle conversation.” She gestured down the hill. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, please,” I said. “I’d like to be inside.”

  Now that I wasn’t insulated by a scaly hide or heated by whatever processes drove my transformation back into myself, I was really feeling the chill of night. Despite the summer season, it was easily cold enough tonight for there to be frost coating the land tomorrow morning, a normal occurrence in the Vale on all but the hottest days. And although the robe I wore was more than expansive enough to keep me covered, it was not the warmest thing.

  I took a few steps, my legs shaking. I was shivering, but I also felt unsure about walking, like I was just learning how. I could carry myself, but I was still glad when Grace put my arm over her shoulder and helped me pick up the pace. I hoped it was a reasonable expectation for suddenly changing the way I moved about, but there was an ember of worry that I had begun to forget how to be human when I was a dragon. Arthur seemed to walk just fine, though, so maybe I was overreacting.

  Rosalie held the door for me and Grace as we got to the church, and I stumbled inside. Arthur was already lighting the candles on the altar, finally finishing adjusting his belt at the same time. Juniper was still asleep, and I was thankful I hadn’t stressed her out by vanishing for an hour or two. Grace moved ahead of me and pulled one of the benches away from the walls, and I collapsed onto it, my energy all spent.

  “Do you have a spare set of clothes?” asked Arthur. “If not, I can lend you one of mine.”

  “Or mine,” Rosalie tacked on.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Yes, you do,” said Grace. Once again she slung her pack, which at this point I was pretty sure was bigger on the inside, off her shoulders, this time looking through a new pocket from all the previous ones. She quickly pulled out a grey shirt and pair of work trousers and handed them over to me.

  I gave her a dubious glance. “Did you know this would happen?” I asked.

  “Nope,” said Grace. “I just like to be prepared.”

  “Well…thanks,” I said slowly. I gathered up the robe and nodded towards the trapdoor at the back. “Do you two mind if I use the attic?”

  “Sure, go on,” said Arthur. He went ahead and pulled down the ladder, being much more careful about it than Grace was earlier to control the clattering cacophony it would have made as it fell. Carefully, I climbed up into the attic.

  It was cramped up there. Clearly, the space hadn’t originally been intended as a living space, and I wondered whether Arthur and Rosalie had permission to be using it as one. All that they had were two cots, which looked comfortable enough, a chest at the back, and a tiny shrine with a statuette of a ram’s head and a sprig of holly sitting on it, a devotion I didn’t recognise. A battered, worn scabbard sat just beside the shrine, occupied by a small sword with an old-looking but well-polished and cared-for hilt.

  I quickly got dressed, realising as I did that even though I was human again, I hadn’t fully left the dragon behind. Apart from my ears, I could almost feel my wings and tail still, as if they were hovering behind me. I could feel a cramp starting in my neck where those finned spines on my back were, too. It reminded me a little bit of some tales I’d heard of injured soldiers who’d lost an arm, and still felt like it was still there.

  My body still remembered being a dragon, but had halfway forgotten how to walk on two legs. Clearly, this went deeper than whether or not I had scales at any given moment.

  Frightening anxieties about how much of me was still human all aside, I rolled the now wet cloth into a thin bundle and climbed back down the ladder. More of the benches had been pulled into a loose triangle where Rosalie, Grace, and Arthur all sat facing one another. A small metal bowl sat in the centre, a pile of burning tinder within it. It wasn’t a whole lot warmer down here, but as I approached the makeshift brazier, it was at least not painfully cold.

  “Welcome back!” Arthur said as I sat down beside Grace. “Feel okay?”

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  “I guess,” I said noncommittally.

  “What’s wrong, still?” asked Grace.

  “It’s…difficult to describe,” I said, picking my words carefully. “I still don’t really feel like it’s all gone. The dragon I mean.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow. “Well, it isn’t,” she said, and tapped my ear, making it flick away on reflex.

  I winced and covered it with my hand. “Don’t do that, please.”

  Grace looked mortified at my reaction and leaned away. “Sorry,” she said, her voice small. There was a pause, before she added, “Your eyes are blue, too,”

  “My eyes are green,” I said.

  “Not anymore, they’re not,” insisted Grace. “They’re blue as the Crownbreaker Sea on a sunny day, same as when you were a dragon.”

  I put my face in my hands and groaned. “Ugh, why does everything have to change like this…?” I mumbled.

  No one bothered to answer. The wind moaned like a ghost as it whirled under the eaves of the church. The candles on the altar flickered, casting long, ghastly shadows behind us.

  “So, I guess you still want to go and talk to the dragoons about this, then?” asked Grace.

  “I’d want to even if I was completely human again,” I said. “Who knows what else this is going to do to me, down the line. I don’t want to be blindsided if I turn thirty and suddenly get immolated in my own fire. Or if I’m slowly losing my mind, or something. I just want to know what is happening.”

  Grace tried to put a comforting arm around me. As she did, she brushed the spot behind my shoulder blades where my wings would have been, and an electric shock went through me. I hissed.

  “Please, don’t touch me right now,” I said, doing my best to hold my irritation back.

  Grace balled her hand into a fist and sat back, going silent again.

  “Uh, so,” said Arthur, bouncing his leg incessantly as the quiet drew on. “How did you end up as a dragon anyway?”

  I sighed and sat back, doing my best to relax and let the phantom feelings tingling at the edge of my perception bleed into white noise in the background. “We were going to loot an abandoned temple,” I said. “Or at least, it was supposed to be abandoned.” I shot a glare at Grace before continuing. I left out the parts about the patients and dead bodies at the monastery, but described everything else as best I could remember: the fall, the pool with the ghosts, and the pearl. Arthur watched the whole time with his jaw practically on the floor, deeply invested in every twist and fold in the story, while Rosalie leaned back, her thumb on her chin, seemingly analysing me as I spoke. I made sure to give her a few glances so she knew, that I knew, that she was doing that.

  “Whoa,” Arthur breathed as I finished describing our flight from the temple. “So you two are mercenaries or something?”

  “I am,” said Grace.

  I wavered a hand. “More or less,” I vagued.

  “Wow…” said Arthur. He was credulous enough that some part of me thought it might be fun to add a few embellishments for him to accept without question, but ultimately I thought better of it.

  “How about you?” I asked.

  “Well…” Arthur sat up straight and slapped a cocky smile on his face, his ears tilting straight up just so I knew the confidence was real and not a joke. “I’m no mercenary, but I do get to fight monsters every now and then.”

  “Arthur,” Rosalie said with a warning tone. “Accuracy, please.”

  He deflated. “Fine. I’m a trapper, and a novice at the church here. I help Father Chester run the communions every week, and catch rabbits and foxes sometimes out on the moor.” He held up a finger. “But that monster thing is true!”

  “Wow,” said Grace. “How’d you get into that situation? ‘Trapper and novice’ aren’t really job titles I’d put together with ‘monster hunter’.”

  “Sort of just happened,” said Arthur. “I grew up with the older folks in my household always talking about ‘oh, the Coslett name once belonged to this knight and that great hunter’, and I guess it eventually ingrained itself in my head. I got to keep the family sword when I moved into the village, and I figured I might as well use it for something. There’s more than a few monsters that live out here, and it’s not like the Corbenshire Watch ever go outside the province capital.”

  “Makes sense for the Watch,” I mumbled bitterly.

  “Mhm,” hummed Arthur. “Anyway, some porter taking goods up to Bryn Corben must have heard people talking about me and gotten confused, because that’s when Rosalie got here.”

  “Indeed,” concurred Rosalie, leaning forward and taking over the story. “The young man probably heard it after quite a few retellings. The version that I encountered in Bryn Corben was that a famous knight errant had taken up lodging in Hath Church End. Now, I’ve been a traveller across the neighbouring shires for much of my life, so I was curious how I hadn’t heard this before.” She put on that slightest of smiles again. “Evidently, the tales were a bit exaggerated…”

  “Hey!” Arthur lightly protested.

  “…but Arthur is still quite gallant, in his own way,” Rosalie finished.

  Both of their faces fell. Arthur spoke next. “Then I got sick,” he said.

  “What with?” asked Grace.

  “The rot,” Rosalie explained tersely.

  Grace paled a bit, and I looked between her and the other two. “‘The rot’?” I repeated.

  “Cinereal rot,” said Rosalie. “I’m glad for your sake it doesn’t sound like it’s made it up into your mountains yet. It’s a vicious plague that’s come upon the Vale. Fatal for most sufferers, even given a proper treatment of blood tonic.” She steepled her fingers. “I couldn’t bear to watch Arthur simply die, so I went to look for a cure. What I found was a purple gemstone, not unlike what you described Belfry, in an abandoned workshop in the Kilnwood to the west. I passed it by a handful of expert occultists and learned that it was dense with unstable vis, the energy of life and magic. It was the best I could find, and I was running out of time, so I brought it back for Arthur.”

  “From there it was the same as what you went through,” said Arthur. “I swallowed the stone, drank a barrel-full of water, and all my symptoms vanished in hours. Then I transformed, thankfully while I was out checking my traps, or I don’t know what the village would have thought.”

  “Another stone…” I murmured. “This workshop, did it have anything to do with the Luminary Church?”

  “Not that I could surmise,” said Rosalie. “It seemed more to be an old potter’s shack.”

  “Honestly, I think that makes it more strange,” added Arthur. “Two stones like that appearing in completely different places? It’s bizarre, especially since it seems like this is the first time this has happened.”

  Thunder rumbled outside, and the flame sitting between us flickered. Shadows scraped along the walls like long-clawed ghouls watching our every move. Distantly, I heard a screaming whirlwind roar over the flat landscape. I huddled in my seat, pulling my legs up and hugging them to my chest. This time, when Grace put her arm on my shoulder, I didn’t object.

  “So, I’m assuming you two are going to want to come with us, then?” I asked, trying to take my mind off the storm.

  “To where?” asked Arthur.

  “Caspian Flight Academy,” said Grace. “It’s the dragoons’ training ground and largest base of operations in the province. Like we said before, if anyone is going to know anything about what’s going on with those stones and you and Belfry’s conditions, it’s probably going to be the dragoons.”

  “We’re also seizing an opportunity,” I muttered.

  Grace frowned, her face twisting in the low light. “You definitely don’t have to do that, Belfry,” she said. “I know that the Dragoon Corps wasn’t ever your dream, just mine.”

  “I told you this last night too, they’re probably my best choice for people willing to take me in at the moment,” I said. “And also, if you’re going to be a dragoon, you’ll need a dragon partner, and you told me that you couldn’t bond with a regular dragon, so…” I oscillated my finger between her and me “…seems like simple arithmetic to me.”

  Grace stared downward at the fire. She looked like she was about to cry, but her face was pressed so firmly into neutrality that I couldn’t tell whether the tears were good or bad.

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” said Arthur. He looked at Rosalie with a grin on his face.

  She shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “Are you sure? It seems like a rather solemn commitment, if you go through with it.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” said Arthur. “Knights have got to retire at some point, right? It’s not like they imprison you in your armour until you do your service, like some fairy tale.”

  “I’m more concerned about you,” said Rosalie. “I’ve never heard of a dragon leaving the imperial cuirassiers, or the dragoons, certainly not alive. Furthermore, I know of that academy, and its well over one hundred miles from here. It’s a long journey to take if you end up deciding against it.”

  “I’d still go,” I spoke up. “Just for the ‘maybe information’ part. Unless you have a better idea for who to talk to about that.”

  Arthur raised an eyebrow at Rosalie, who sat back and rubbed her forehead. “There are occultists that I might be able to reach,” she said. “But in full honesty, we had been working under the idea that we’d simply make observations about the condition ourselves. Which, I realise, is probably not the most effective solution.”

  “Sounds like we’re going, then…?” prompted Arthur.

  “Yes, I think we will,” said Rosalie. She heaved a loud sigh. “So long as you two don’t pose any issues to us, I agree that travelling as a party would be sensible.”

  “I think we generally do our best not to cause ‘issues’,” I said. The sarcasm I tried out as a distraction was clipped by a crash of thunder less than a mile away.

  “Are you good, Belfry?” Grace suddenly asked, seemingly recovering from whatever emotions I’d dealt to her. “You didn’t used to be scared of storms.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, spitting the word more than I meant to. “It just…brings up bad memories.” I turned to Arthur before she could ask any follow-up questions about that. “Hey, are we going to be safe here? I’ve heard stories about horrifying storms on the moor, and this church seems kind of rickety.”

  “Not to scare you any more,” Arthur began, “but part of the reason the steeple on the church here is made of wood instead of brick like the rest of it is because we’ve had to rebuild it six times over from when it got knocked down.” He clearly saw something terrible coming over me then. “It’ll be fine, though! I don’t think this is a storm where we have to worry about tornadoes.”

  The gale blew hard again, and the crackle of rain pelting down on the roof merged with it into a sound almost like continuously shattering glass. I hoped it wasn’t indicative of whatever a “tornado” was. The fire flickered again, and Arthur gave it a concerned glance.

  “We should probably get to bed soon, though,” he said. “It’s not going to get any warmer tonight.”

  Rosalie was standing in an instant. “Excellent,” she said. “I am eager for rest.” She bowed towards Grace and me. “It has been a pleasant meeting, as much as can be expected in the circumstances. I hope you rest well.” Without any more preamble, she headed up the ladder and into the attic.

  Arthur stood and glanced down at me. “Sorry she’s so stiff,” he said. “Old habits, and all.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “She’s leagues better than most people from a ‘house of whatever’ I’ve met.”

  “Mhm,” said Arthur, his eyes unfocussed like he was thinking about something completely different. “I think it’s all the travelling she did. Meeting good people makes you good people, I’d say. Or, at least, it makes it easier.” He hesitated. “Hey, Belfry. Do you mind if I talk with you for a moment? Alone, if possible?”

  I looked to Grace for input, only for her to give me a distinctly ambivalent face. We’d established by now that these two were probably trustworthy enough not to stab us and run off with our belongings, not that we had that many anyway, right?

  “Uh, sure,” I said. I stood and followed him to the doors of the church. He put his hood up before he stepped outside, covering his ears, and I mimicked him by making sure mine were pinned back under my hair, just on the off chance someone in the hamlet was watching. He lingered just outside in the shadow of the building, where we had shelter from the rain beneath the eaves.

  He crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall. He was far more pensive and nervous than I had seen of him up until now. “Hey,” he said.

  I waited for more, but he didn’t give it. “Hi,” I prompted.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. “About the, you know. The dragon thing.”

  I paused before answering. “Why do we need to be so private for this?”

  “I just thought you might want some room away from anyone who might have opinions about it.” He spied my apprehensive expression and scoffed. “I’m not trying to shake you down for information. I wanted to give you a chance to share with someone who gets it, is all, fake dragon to fake dragon.”

  He’s got to need my answer for something, I thought to myself. But for what?

  “I don’t know what you want to hear,” I said, the need to vent my frustrations to someone who might understand winning out over suspicion for now. “I’ve been better. I don’t like being a ‘fake dragon’ or whatever you want to call the abominations against nature that we are. I’m terrified that my life won’t ever go back to normal.”

  Arthur slid down the wall until he was nearly sitting on the ground, and I joined him a moment after. “Is that so bad?” he asked.

  “Yes!” I said. “It’s not that I can’t handle shakeups in my life. Saints know I’ve had my fair share of those. It’s…really, it’s the little things that I never really thought about until they were taken away from me.” I grabbed my ears. “Like these stupid things. Am I going to have to think about which way my ears are facing in every conversation I have for the rest of my life? That’s not me, that’s not something Belfry does, but it’s my life now. Or it might be, I don’t know.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I’m not even sure if I can really stay like this, or if me being human is on a time limit now.”

  “It is.” Arthur dipped his head. “In a way. You get the same feeling I do, right? Like you’ve still got wings?”

  I nodded.

  “I tried to stay human just for good after I first figured out how to turn back,” said Arthur. “I lasted about a week. The longer I stayed like this, the more it felt like all the invisible dragon parts of me were getting cramps, aches, random jolts of pain like you stepped on a nail, until I had to turn back. It kind of reminded me of how it feels to sit on your legs for a long time. You’ve got to stretch them and move them a little bit or it starts to hurt a lot.”

  “Great,” I mumbled under my breath. “Just great. So I definitely still need a cure, then.”

  “I’ll do my best to help with that.”

  I gave him a side-eye. “You’re just like Grace. Sometimes it’s good for you to not care about other people’s problems, actually.”

  He put on a bright and playful smile. “Sorry! That’s just who I am. Arthur Coslett, master member of the guild of worriers, it’s good to meet ya.”

  I didn’t appreciate the joke when I was being completely serious. I didn’t harp on it, though. I practised what I preached. “Fine, sure,” I said, and stood. “Is that all you wanted to talk about, though?”

  “Mostly!” said Arthur. “It felt like you could use a chance to get some words off your chest, and I wanted to listen. We’ll have time for some real small talk in the air tomorrow, heh.” He wrung his hands. “There’s just one more thing. Did you have any weird dreams last night?”

  I narrowed my eyes. I hazily remembered the underwater dream, but I didn’t know if I would consider it strange. “Not really,” I said, hedging my bets a bit. “Why?”

  “Just wondering,” said Arthur. “It’s probably just me. Nothing to worry about.” He opened the door first, holding it for me. “After you.”

  Grace was already setting out blankets when I came back inside, apparently handed over by Rosalie. Arthur and I bid each other good night, and I wrapped myself in a blanket using part of the mattress-saddle as a pillow. With the candles doused, the cold was biting.

  “Well, look at you,” Grace said, keeping her voice down. “Hardly a day out from home and you’ve already got a swain.”

  “Shut it,” I snapped. She did.

  I picked at a loose chunk of wood on the flooring. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “No, you’re right,” said Grace. “It was a rude joke to make. I know it was probably just small talk.”

  “Not that,” I said. “Well, I mean, it was just small talk, but–you know, I meant…ugh.” I twisted over to look her in the eye. “I should have said this all yesterday, before we went to the monastery. I’m—”

  “That was all my fault,” Grace said sullenly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything that went on in there. I’m the one who cajoled you into that job, you didn’t want to go.”

  “Grace, please be quiet and listen,” I said. “I mean before. When you left. I never apologised for how I acted then. I’m sorry for screaming at you. And hating you.”

  “You don’t need to apologise for that,” said Grace. “It’s reasonable, I think. I was pretty selfish.”

  “So was I,” I protested.

  “No,” said Grace. “You weren’t.”

  I made a fist against the floor, turning my knuckles white. “I’m still mad at you,” I grumbled.

  “Me, too,” Grace said quietly.

  “Well, I shouldn’t be,” I said. “It’s been half a decade, it’s childish to keep holding on to it.”

  “That’s not how that works,” said Grace, giving me a stern look. “You don’t just choose to stop hurting after someone abandons you like that. You should give yourself some more credit. You have a right to be angry.” Her eyes turned towards the floor. “I’ve done a lot of hurt to you.”

  I smelled smoke. This conversation was irritating me beyond words. I rolled over, away from her. “Fine,” I muttered. “You know, I still love you. You’re my sister. That won’t change.”

  “Same to you.” I could hear her smile.

  “Sorry I brought all that up,” I mumbled. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Belfry.”