“Roxa?”

  “hm?”

  “that thing we saw? in the River, before those boys walked in?”

  “...yes?”

  “…it wasn’t....a revenant, was it?”

  a vivid spy of gigantic moth wings, fanning out from a white-hot core of brilliant intensity

  “…I don’t know but…I don’t think so.”

  silence.

  “that wasn’t the only one, either, there were more of them.”

  silence.

  “do you think we called them? Like, with our singing?”

  vast spreading ripples, washing out and rushing towards her in total silence. an overpping pattern of recognition, aching like a long-awaited greeting

  “I don’t know, Crissa. But I don’t think we should tell anyone else about whatever those things were, yet.”

  “right. right. okay. I won’t. ”

  silence.

  “Roxa?”

  “yes?”

  “can we….try it again, though? The harmonizing? Just the two of us?”

  “yes. definitely. and soon.” A pause, a long sigh. “Crissa?”

  “yeah?”

  “thank you.”

  "yeah."

  ~ ~ ~

  When she heard Roxa shuffle in, Mi was bent over her notebook, humming softly while she calcuted the intricate factoring for a triple-bound mache—a protective amulet produced through alchemical metallurgy.

  She looked up alertly. Roxa never shuffled.

  Her friend sprawled onto the bed without taking off her boots. Her face looked drawn and paler than usual.

  Mi closed her notebook. “Roxa? What happened?”

  Roxa groaned. “Had a run in with a few bootlickers. I recognized one of them from...before.”

  Mi jumped up, stomach lurching. “Tiny gods, Roxa! Are you okay?”

  Roxa craned her head up slightly, smiling crookedly. “Don’t worry, Crissa dealt with them all handily. That girl can sling spells, let me tell you.”

  Mi knelt down and start uncing Roxa’s boots. “Crissa your practice partner? You’re not hurt are you, Roxa?”

  “Mi, you don’t need to—” Roxa protested weakly, levering herself to upright.

  Mi gently stiff-armed her back down. “I’m doing this, thank you very much. Now tell me what happened.”

  Roxa flopped back. “Thank you,” she sighed. “I’m fine, I swear. Not a scratch on me.” Her mouth twisted. “Crissa bound them, and then...well, I decided to make sure they wouldn’t be walking again anytime soon.”

  Mi felt Roxa shudder slightly. Her deft hands stilled and she looked up at her friend for a long moment. “Good.”

  Roxa screwed her face up. She was breathing shallowly, and only in her upper chest, Mi noticed. “It made me want to retch,” she admitted. “I still feel a little sick.”

  Mi grabbed her strong, callused hand, lying limply on the coverlet, and squeezed it. She took a deep breath, feeling the warm relief lingering in her lungs that Roxa’s defense gave her, the light lifting of support. She leaned her forehead on her friend’s knee and tried to send some of that feeling into her, through touch.

  Roxa squeezed her hand back. “I would do it again in an instant, though.” She paused. Her next words were whispered fiercely through a tightened throat. “I want to destroy their world, Mi. I want to destroy it.”

  Mi’s heart was breaking open and flowing like a river of gratitude. She left Roxa’s boots and wiggled up onto the bed beside her friend. Roxa turned her head and Mi gazed into her shockingly clear, green eyes. She swallowed hard, brought Roxa’s hand up to her lips, and brushed her mouth gently over the scraped, raw knuckles.

  “Thank you for having my back like this, Roxa,” Mi whispered. “I feel so safe with you.”

  Roxa blinked and the tension flowed out of her body. Her inhales began to slow and deepen. For a long, unbroken stretch of time, they gazed into each others’ eyes and the rise and fall of their breathing slowly synchronized.

  After a while, Roxa stretched mightily, like a big cat. “Oh Mi,” she yawned, “The spells you cast are far more powerful than mine.”

  Mi’s cheeks warmed. “You are a silver tongued fox,” she said crisply. “And a rake.”

  “Me?” Roxa chuckled. “Surely not.” She looked around. “Did you send my little rabbit away? I don’t see our eager new pet anywhere.”

  Mi sat up, caught between amusement and reproach. “Roxa!”

  Roxa threw her a loaded look, eyebrow cocked.

  “Of course I think she’s cute!” Mi exploded, gesturing her exasperation.

  Roxa smirks. “So cute.”

  Mi bit her lip. “And…I may have…toyed with her a little before she left.”

  Roxa ughed in astonishment. “And you have the gall to call me a rake? You degenerate corrupter of the youth! Who’s the silver-tongued fox now?”

  Mi blushed. “She liked it so much, I couldn’t resist.”

  “I’ll bet,” smirked Roxa knowingly. “Sounds more fun that what I was doing.”

  “But you know we—I mean, I can’t—can’t do anything about it! Not until we can trust her.”

  Roxa shrugged. “Keep on pying with her like this and I’m sure you’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time.”

  Mi groaned. “That’s not trust, though!”

  Roxa cocked her head. “Isn’t it?”

  “Maybe? I don’t know,” Mi relented. “But—it’s not the only kind of trust I want with her. At least—it’s so intimate, Roxa! The way I’m connecting with her? It feels so good to me. Recognizing a girl like me—here of all pces, after so long away from home—holding her, sharing my spirit with her, flirting...But I can’t—” She gestured inarticutely. “She doesn’t know about me, and I can’t tell her yet, so—what is like for her?” Mi’s mouth twisted bitterly. “She deserves to feel less lonely than she must be, but I can’t give that simple gift to her? Because of this horrible power game we are forced to py?”

  Roxa nodded sympathetically. “So you think it’s worth the risk to tell her who you are?”

  Mi sighed. “I don’t know. She was so vulnerable with us—how could she be lying? Honestly, I want to include her so, so badly that I don’t actually trust my own judgment. I look at her and I can’t help seeing myself as I could have been, but for a quirk or two of fate. If the past had flowed just a little different, I’d be in her shoes.” She looked at Roxa helplessly. “What do you think of her?”

  Roxa sighed. “I think her story checks out so far, and we hold untold power over her.” She shrugged. “She comes across as very sweet and genuine. I think the question we should ask ourselves is: what would it take for us to trust her? Especially you, since yours is the life at stake.”

  Mi looked out the window. Purple shadows of dusk were stretching into the long dark fingers of tree branches. “What would it take for us to trust that Ellie will keep her mouth shut under pressure, even if someone else who knows her secret threatens to turn her in unless she talks? Is there a way to find that out beforehand?” She grimaced. “I refuse to test her with use-thinking or try any instrumental mind games. Just to be clear.”

  Roxa sighed. “Then I think you’ll have to decide whether or not to trust her with that information the same way you decided with me.” She paused, and smiled wickedly to herself. “Well, maybe not necessarily the same way.”

  Mi rolled her eyes.

  “The point is,” continued Roxa blithely, “if you two can grow that much trust and loyalty to each other, you’ll know how solid it is because you can feel it. And also by comparing her actions to her words,” she added hastily. “That most of all, actually.”

  “Unless you’ve actually faced capture and death together, it’s hard to know how someone will react when the pressure is on,” said Mi softly.

  “Wellll, it’s an axiom of spycraft all around the Whistling Sea that Ministry torturers break everyone eventually,” said Roxa hesitantly. “It’s just a matter of how long it takes. So if the situation has devolved far enough, it really doesn’t matter whether Ellie is trustworthy or not.”

  “So even if we can decide to trust her, we have to make sure her cover is airtight, and keep it that way.” Mi sighed. “What else?”

  Roxa started ticking points off on her fingers. “Vigince about the flow of information she has access to, and how it could be used against us if she’s compromised. Keep an ear out for any rumors about her disappearance as a student, and thoroughly assess her risks. Watch for any red fgs in her behavior or inconsistencies in her story.”

  Mi flopped back on the bed and rubbed her face. “I hate this, Roxa,” she said miserably. “I want to just leave this nest of vipers, and go home, and take you both with me.”

  “Well,” said Roxa hesitantly, “There’s more, actually.”

  Mi looked at her.

  “It’s my mother.” Roxa winced. “She’s ordered me back to the Duchy.”

  Mi sat up. Her heart was plunging into steep free fall. Of course, a voice inside her whispered. This was always how it was going to go. Roxa is, first and foremost, the daughter of a Countess, remember? Long before she was your friend. Loneliness cwed at her lungs.

  Mi was proud that her voice barely shook. “I see.” She felt fragile, like a gss bottle spiderwebbed with deep cracks, somehow still clinging together. “When will you be leaving?”

  Watching her friend’s momentary tremble, Roxa’s green eyes fred. “No, listen, Mi. I won’t just leave you here, I promise. That’s not happening.” She shook her head stubbornly, knowing as she said the words that they were true. “I’ll disobey my mother long before it comes to that.”

  Mi stared at her friend, rays of warmth beginning to melt the cold ice in her chest. “Roxa…”

  “She’s worried that if the Imperiat goes to war against my home, I’ll be detained and inquisitioned if I stay here.” Roxa cleared her throat and looked out the window. “Which, I’m afraid is likely. The fact that she’s staying in Drago means she’s probably not pnning to survive herown capture.”

  Roxa swallowed hard and met Mi’s gaze. “But I am choosing my own path now, and I will decide how to best attack my enemies and defend what I love.”

  Mi’s insides flooded with warm affection, listening to the raw courage in her friend’s voice. Her heart squeezed and tears prickled her eyes.

  “Besides,” said Roxa fiercely. “The Moot is still months away. We have plenty of time to come up with a pn.”

  Mi wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and smiled bravely at her friend. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s make some pns.”