As I’ve done for the last two weeks, I send a message to Blair in the morning. So far, all my attempts to reach her have resulted in the System spitting an automated message back at me:

  [Message failed to deliver]

  It’s no different today. I sigh in disappointment. After speaking with Zyneth about potential allies in the pantheon, I’ve been hoping to get in contact with Blair to see if she could facilitate a meeting. At this point, I’m considering asking Shirasil. He’d probably be more likely to respond, actually, but I can’t help but feel Blair would be the safer ambassador.

  I’m not out of options yet, however.

  At lunch I find Kanin, Zyneth, and Ollie in the dining hall—and Aquenno by extension. Kanin is fiddling with some of the Attuned metallic glass I made for him while Zyneth recounts one of his adventures to Ollie. The dragon watches him with wide eyes. Aquenno is the only one actively eating his lunch, though “picking at his greens” would be more accurate.

  I take a seat next to Aquenno as Zyneth continues to narrate.

  “...and he jumped right in front of the bonefangs, attempting to fight them off with only a handful of tiny glass shards.”

  “YOU DID?” Ollie asks Kanin.

  “Yeah, and almost got eaten for the trouble,” he grumbles.

  “I’m not sure that would have been possible,” Zyneth considers. “Most undead don’t have stomachs. And those snakes were pretty well decomposed.”

  “Easy for you to say when you weren’t the one getting swallowed like an egg!”

  “THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” Ollie asks, interrupting the good-natured bickering.

  Zyneth spreads his hands, lightning sparking between his fingers. “Well, once I saw the little glass bottle was in trouble, I used a lightning spell on the whole horde…”

  I chuckle as Zyneth dramatically recounts the story. “Have you been here listening to this all morning?” I ask Aquenno, lowering my tone so as not to disrupt the storytelling.

  “Nearly two hours,” the nereid says with a sigh. “I thought they would get tired of sitting around eventually.”

  “That was your first mistake,” I tease. “Ollie could listen to stories all day. Read, too, though the print is a bit small for dragon eyes. I’ve got a scribe working on it.”

  “They have translation stones for that,” Aquenno remarks. “For blind people. You run the stone over the text and it reads it aloud. Could probably adapt something like that for the kid if the stone is too small for him to hold.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I give Aquenno a smile. “Thanks for the idea.”

  The champion shrugs, his gaze briefly returning to Zyneth and Kanin, as if trying to end the conversation. I don’t want to pressure him, so I help myself to the spread of vegetables, cheese, and bread. A minute later, however, Aquenno turns back to me.

  His face is grave, but he keeps his tone quiet. “That child will be in danger if the pantheon finds out about you all.”

  “I know.” I absently pick at the piece of bread I’m holding. “And it’s not a matter of if, but when. If Blair and Shirasil can find this place, so can others. All I can try to do is be as prepared as possible.”

  “How?” Aquenno wonders. “You can’t hope to defy the gods.”

  “I hope I won’t have to defy all of them,” I say, evading the question about how, exactly, we plan to defy them. “You can’t tell me Blair is the only god who cares about justice.”

  “She’s not,” Aquenno admits. “But as long as the majority side with Lorata, the others don’t dare oppose them.”

  I pop a piece of bread in my mouth, chewing as I slowly nod along to Aquenno’s words. “And what if a majority changed perspectives?"

  He gives me a skeptical look. “I don’t see how that would ever happen.”

  “But if it did?” I insist. “I don’t believe anyone is immutable. Perhaps I could change some minds, if I were just given the chance.”

  Aquenno frowns. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’d need your help,” I admit. “I need a way to contact Blair.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not possible right now. She’s in the Heavens, and so unreachable. But I’ll know when she next visits the mortal realm.”

  I guess that explains the System messages I’ve been getting. “That’s a shame. I suppose Shirasil is always an option…”

  I don’t miss the flash of concern in Aquenno’s eyes at this suggestion.

  “Unless you know of a way to contact other champions?” I ask. Maybe compared to Shirasil he’ll find this a more palatable compromise. “There’s one in particular I’d like to speak with: Zetaru. One of Yua Tin’s champions, I believe.”

  Aquenno’s brows lift in surprise. “Zetaru? What do you want with her?”

  “She visited once,” I admit. “About three months ago. The fact that we haven’t yet been invaded tells me she kept our secret. I believe she—and Yua Tin—can be trusted.”

  Aquenno is silent. A series of conflicted emotions pass over his face as he goes back to half-heartedly poking at his salad.

  “Is there nothing I can do to make you trust me?” I ask after a span of silence.

  “I do trust you,” he says with a sigh. Then he nods toward Kanin. “I believe you mean well. It’s your remnants I don’t trust. And it’s the remnants that will cause other gods to hesitate before helping you.”

  That does fit with what Shirasil told us of the origin of remnants and their relationship with the gods. But just because these entities can lend enough strength to rival the gods doesn’t mean they have to be a threat to them.

  “Then give me the chance to change their minds,” I say. “If I could speak with other champions, perhaps they’ll be able to facilitate an opportunity for their god to get to know me—and my remnant. One on one, without the pressure of other gods present.”

  He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You know, that’s precisely what one would ask for if they intended to isolate a god in order to more easily pick them off.”

  I lean back, instinctively holding up my hands in a sign of innocence. “I wouldn’t—”

  “I know.” He chuckles. “Though the history between the gods and Fyrethians will not weigh in your favor.”

  I don’t reply to this, partly because he’s right, and partly because I can hear an unspoken but at the end of his words. I wait patiently for him to continue.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “I can’t make any guarantees,” he finally says. “But I know Zetaru, and I can reach out to a few other champions I trust as well. Whether they pass the invitation on to their gods is out of my hands.”

  A grin splits across my face. “Really? You would do that for me?”

  Aquenno looks at me with a weary smile. “In truth, Blair already authorized me to take such action should I deem you trustworthy. She left the choice in my hands. And from what I’ve seen of your city, and the way these people respect you, I believe I am making the right choice.”

  Zyneth stretches his arms above his head as he pushes himself to his feet, and Kanin is quick to follow suit. I guess storytime must be over.

  “Thank you,” I say to Aquenno as we stand as well. “This may ensure the safety of our city.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” the nereid says. “I am merely passing on your invitation; that doesn’t mean any will accept it. And if they do, your troubles will only just be beginning. You’ve convinced one champion that your city deserves a future—now you’ll need to do so again with every new visitor.”

  I lean down and squeeze Aquenno in a quick hug, and he lets out a startled squeak. I pull back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. But winning over visitors appears to be one of my strengths.”

  His expression softens. “I believe it.”

  After we’ve cleaned up the eating area, Zyneth comes over to me to shake my hand. “Lord Fyre. It’s been an honor to get to know you over these past few weeks. Your city is in good hands.”

  “Oh!” I clasp his hand back. “Well, thank you. Are you going somewhere?”

  “He got called for a job,” Kanin says, his tone dejected.

  “I suspect I’ll be back in a few weeks,” the cambion tells me. He glances slyly toward Kanin. “If we haven’t overstayed our welcome.”

  “Why are you looking at me?” Kanin objects.

  I release Zyneth’s grasp. “You’re absolutely welcome back any time. You won’t both be going, then?”

  Kanin reluctantly shakes his head. “He wants time apart.”

  “That’s not what I said!” Zyneth objects. “I said just because we’re in a relationship doesn’t mean we can’t do things independently.”

  “Like I said,” Kanin sighs dramatically. “He wants time apart.”

  Zyneth playfully swats his shoulder. I suspect the real reason Kanin is staying, however, is to keep working on his spell circle, though of course he can’t say that in front of Aquenno.

  My stomach turns. I just had a conversation with Aquenno about trust, and here I am, continuing to conceal the fact that Kanin intends to raid the Heavens. And while I might not be part of that plan anymore, I’m still enabling it.

  Would Aquenno understand? Will Kanin’s heist spoil the goodwill I want to foster with some of the gods? Kanin doesn’t intend to hurt anyone—just rescue imprisoned souls from our world. But will the Heavens see it that way?

  I don’t know. But I don’t like deception, and I worry I’ll soon be caught in this tangle of half-truths.

  Mirzayael’s presence surfaces in my mind. “Are you alright?” She must have felt some of my stress; she’s more sensitive to small changes in my mood than Ollie is. Or, if Ollie notices, he doesn’t say anything.

  And of course, Mirzayael represents yet another thing to juggle. I’m going to have to tell her about my request for Aquenno eventually, and she certainly won’t find the proposition appealing.

  “Later,” I tell her. “We can speak on it tonight.”

  Mirzayael doesn’t question it; satisfied by my reassurance, her mind turns back toward the drills she’s running with the guards.

  Zyneth—and so Kanin by extension—and so Aquenno by secondary extension—leaves to go pack. I return to other duties, of which I have plenty. Lesson plans for the school curriculum, writing an overdue letter to Captain Marlowe about trade talks in Dunmora, reviewing applications for merchants in the lower tier of the Fortress, making plans to expand our air docks. And those are just the most immediate issues to address.

  By the time dinner is ready, I’m stifling a yawn as I head down to the dining hall. I’m a bit late, so Mirzayael and the other councilors are already mid meal. I’m surprised to find Kanin and Aquenno there as well, the former managing to look especially dejected in spite of the lack of a face.

  “Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I remark to the glass man as I take a seat next to Mirzayael. “I thought you only attended meals to keep Zyneth company.”

  Kanin lets out a sad sigh, jabbing a thumb toward Aquenno. “Yes, well, this guy’s still attached to me like a leech, and while I considered dragging him around the city for a few more hours, Zyneth insisted I should let him eat.”

  Aquenno’s eyes briefly flick upward, as if in silent prayer. “Much obliged.”

  Dizzi snickers. “We can pack some meals to-go if you need.”

  Aquenno gives her a flat look. “Please don’t give him any ideas.”

  “Zyneth’s left, then, I take it?” I ask Kanin.

  He nods glumly. “It’s weird. We’ve been with each other every day for the last six months. Before him I never dated anyone half as long, and was never really bothered when it inevitably came to an end. But he’s only going to be gone for a few weeks and I already miss him.”

  I nod sympathetically. Even Mirzayael seems understanding, in spite of her continued (feigned) dislike of Zyneth.

  “When did you two become betrothed?” She gestures to Kanin. “I do not see a bracer—but I suppose you might have different customs?”

  “What?” Kanin sits up straight. “Betrothed? Ha! Ah—no, no, we’re just dating. Er, courting. Whatever you guys like to call it.”

  “Oh.” Mirzayael raises her brows in faint surprise. “I apologize for assuming. Is such a long courting window frequent on your world?”

  This catches my attention. “Is it infrequent here?” I thought Gardi and Salvia had gotten engaged rather quickly, but I wasn’t going to be the one to judge.

  Torim shrugs. “Generally speaking. Once courting begins, the partnership typically consecrates within a few months.”

  “It was two for Sora and I,” Nek adds.

  “What?” Kanin cries.

  I am prone to agree. “That seems fast. What if they find they don’t get along?”

  Torim looks at me like I’ve said something funny. “Then they dissolve the partnership.”

  “Just like that?” Kanin asks skeptically.

  Dizzi shrugs. “Sure. What—is it a big deal for you guys?”

  “Certainly a lot of paperwork,” I say, rubbing my temple at the memory. “It can be rather drawn out, too.”

  “Why?” Mirzayael asks. “You agree to no longer be partnered. The relevant parties go their separate ways. What else is to be done?”

  I suppose the Fyrethians have never been a very materialistic society—no mortgages to iron out or roomfulls of furniture to sort through. Given how practical their lives were, it makes sense for them to treat marriage—or divorce—in a much more straightforward manner. Honestly, it’s kind of refreshing.

  “But, wait,” I say suddenly, looking up at Mirzayael in horror. “A month or two is standard?”

  We’ve been courting for over three months.

  Dizzi starts to laugh. Mirzayael pats my knee in comfort. “You are not familiar with our ways, Outsider. I do not blame you for not knowing.”

  I can feel a blush rushing up my neck, while Kanin has gone suspiciously quiet. “Is—have people been talking? Has this reflected poorly on our leadership and unity?”

  “No,” Torim says. “Three months is not unusually long.”

  “But six would be,” Nek says. Then his gaze flickers to Kanin. “Er, no offense.”

  “Yeah,” Kanin says faintly. “Sure.”

  I squeeze Mirzayael’s hand, recalling the comment she made about Gardi and Salvia. “Does this mean… Should we make things official?”

  Her gaze softens. “In your own time. As I said before: I’ve no intention to pressure you.”

  Yet, pressured is the last thing I feel. For what I’m used to—from my very specific flavor of Earth culture—three months sounds like hardly any time. Yet, I’ve known her for twice as long, and somehow, it doesn’t feel rushed. Like the rest of my life here, it feels right. Comforting.

  She feels like home.

  I take her warm grasp with my other hand, too. “Mirzayael, it would mean the world to me to be your partner on the throne and off.”

  “Is this a proposal?” she asks, smiling fondly. “A true one this time.”

  “Yes,” I say. “If you will have me.”

  Mirzayael chuckles, low and warm. “I’d have no other.” She leans in to kiss me.

  Distantly, I hear Dizzi squeal in delight. The others are also talking excitedly, though it’s hard to pay them any mind when Mirzayael’s is wrapped around my own.

  She mentally laughs. “I can’t believe you did this right in front of Nek and Dizzi.”

  I smile into the kiss. “No going back now; the entire kingdom will know in a matter of hours.”

  “I’d never go back,” she thinks, and images of Jorria, of the caves, of her first glimpse of me wandering out of the dark, flit through her mind.

  “Never,” I agree.

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