Holy Week marked the space between the months of Annem and Unem, winter to spring, old year to the new. Five days of feasts and celebrations. It also meant Aelia had to give an additional five speeches before all of Hellfrost. With Hellfrost still lacking a fully ordained priest to lead the festivities, it still fell to Aelia.

  Hard to celebrate when “feasts” were restrained by rations, when the cold still held the land in a hard grip, when the fear of the coming voidspawn overshadowed all else. The final New Moon of the year was supposed to celebrate Ambition, looking forward to both individual and communal plans. How could anyone look into the future when they all knew that creatures from the abyss waited in that future?

  Still, they managed far better than Aelia expected. Tanya turned rationed food into a meal worthy of the title feast. Drink flowed (a move Aelia had only relented on the unanimous advice of the rest of Hellfrost’s leadership), and the mood was, if not exactly joyous, certainly a far cry from the fear and despair of only two months prior. Through Esharah’s mental connection, it felt like a release of tension, a loosening of the tight knot of fear.

  Esharah’s presence was distant now. She was acting as liaison to the Hravast and Kvormskaja tribes, joining in their own celebrations of the turn to spring. This part of the festival, Aelia would enjoy unfiltered.

  “Looks like they’re not so scared of the future as you feared,” Aven noted, sharing a mug of spiced wine as they stood in the town square where the festivities were held.

  “I suppose not,” Aelia marveled at their resilience. She only felt more tension. What kind of mental strength let the people turn away from such an uncertain future and enjoy the present? Certainly a strength she lacked.

  Not just the civilians either. Even the soldiers seemed to be releasing tension. Joining in with the dances in the square. Sergeant Danys Akra, heavy with a child nearly due, still managed to join her husband in the traditional ring dance. Even Sergeant Logash and Tanya were part of the dance, the diminutive minari leading her enormous ogre partner through a simplified version where the rest of the crowd gave Logash wide berth.

  Almost as wide a berth as the townsfolk gave Aven. In word, they praised him, thanked him. But even Aelia couldn’t possibly miss the mistrustful, fearful glances they gave his black-veined skin.

  “Would you like to join in the next dance?” Aven’s question jolted Aelia out of her pondering.

  “No,” she replied. “I am exhausted from my speech.” Not to mention that even the thought of dancing drained her enthusiasm faster than the cold drained away strength.

  An instant later, she realized that was probably not the proper reply to an offer from her courtship partner. Thankfully, Aven seemed neither offended nor particularly disappointed. He simply squeezed her hand. His own hand was warm as always, better than a bonfire against the evening chill.

  “I understand.”

  A traditional courtship lasted a full year, giving potential partners a chance to experience a full cycle of festivals and swear their union would fulfil each of the twelve Ideals. Then, if both partners agreed, they could move beyond courtship to planning marriage. Hellfrost...seemed less concerned with formalities. From certain sly insinuations from Tanya, Aelia gathered that many expected a significantly accelerated timeline. As if stepping from mutual affection to a permanent bond was a step to be taken thoughtlessly.

  The song ended, and Logash and Tanya stepped away from the group of dancers.

  “Go on, then!” Tanya poked Aven in the thigh, nodding to Aelia. “Get that girl in the dance circle!”

  “Aven offered,” Aelia interjected. “I declined.”

  “What?” the minari matron shook her head. “You two are young! Take advantage of it while you can!”

  “You seem to provide compelling evidence that advanced years do not prevent one finding enjoyment,” Aelia replied.

  “Ooh, cheeky,” Tanya winked, though Aelia had meant it as a simple observation, not anything impudent. “But I’m young at heart! Besides, we minari live far longer than you lot. I’ve a good many decades left yet. You lot better get moving before your bones get creaky.”

  “Fruit picked out of season is bitter,” Aelia quoted from the Book of Joy. “Joy comes in its proper time.”

  “Aye, I know the proverb. That’s what my Barry said too, back when we first courted.” Tanya winked. “Then, suddenly, I was with child a month later. Funny how things work.”

  Aven choked on his wine, and Aelia felt her own cheeks grow hot. By the Paragons, thoughts of children were far, far beyond where they were at now. Especially since Aven’s time in the Void had left questions about whether children were even possible for him. Questions that Aelia had not taken time to ponder because there were far more important and less mortifying thoughts to handle.

  “Tanya,” Logash said gently, “Leave them be. They will choose their own path.”

  “Fine, fine,” Tanya tugged the ogre’s enormous hand with both of her own. “Maybe if I get some more wine in you, I’ll get you back out to dance, you lug.”

  Neither Aven nor Aelia spoke until the couple had disappeared back into the crowd. And the silence continued a good while afterwards. Aelia briefly pondered if evaporating into one of the nearby snowdrifts was an option. Or just burying herself. The wine had made her warm enough to not notice the cold as much. Perhaps she’d survive. Her brain, as always, helpfully provided the logical conclusion: death by hypothermia was a highly inefficient solution to an uncomfortable situation.

  “I apologize for her,” Aven said, breaking the silence.

  “The offense was not yours, so the apology doesn’t need to be,” Aelia replied. Why did the words always come out of her mouth so formal? They were stiff. Cold. She wasn’t trying to be cold. “Would you...be happier if we were dancing?”

  “If you wanted to dance, I’d love to dance with you,” Aven said. “But I want to do this how you want to do this, not how Tanya thinks it should be done. So no. I’d rather be here with you.”

  The heat returned to her cheeks, a different kind this time. A slow smile touched her lips. The people in the square cheered as Tanya had managed to drag Logash out into the center of the dance, where the ogre stomped clumsily along with the music. The ogre and minari held so much attention that the crowd didn’t notice Sunshine pushing his way up onto the musician’s platform.

  “People of Hellfrost!” the red-haired boy’s voice rang out. Wine-flushed face as red as his hair. Gesticulating wildly enough that the other musicians vacated the space for the moment. “I have a song!”

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  Cheers rang out. Cheers holding a vindictive glee that anyone not intoxicated would have found cause for warning. At the edge of the circle, children rushed to the barrels packed with the wastes of the feast and the fruits and vegetables gone bad. Ready for the fruit-bashing. A tradition that was not precisely lawful.

  “Captain,” Aelia said halfheartedly, law suddenly seeming a distant concern. “I believe the people are about to commit an unlawful action.”

  Aven glanced from the children gathering their implements back to Sunshine on the platform, “Oh no. I am too distracted by the woman at my side to notice.” There was...something more than humor in Aven’s eyes when he looked at Sunshine, Aelia thought. But whatever lay there disappeared too quickly for her to be sure.

  “Unfortunate,” Aelia watched the children rush to the platform.

  Lute ready, Sunshine strummed out a tune.

  “This song,” Sunshine slurred, vaguely around the same note as his lute. “Is dedicated to the prettiest woman in all of Hellfrost! A woman of grace and beauty unmatched throughout the land!”

  Not only a bad song from a drunk, but a public confession. The crowd transformed to a pack of wolves, eager for the feast. The children looked at each other, weapons poised, trying to parse through the drunk’s words to determine the subject. And even Aelia found herself consumed by morbid fascination.

  Sunshine opened his mouth and caterwauled with gusto far beyond his skill.

  “Hark now Hellfrost and listen to my ditty

  I’ve got a song for a lady so pretty

  Oh, ol’ tiny Tanya’s a lovely biddy

  Oh, ol’ tiny Tanya’s got big ol’-”

  Before another line could pollute the world, an onslaught of half-eaten pie crusts and mushed vegetables pelted Sunshine from all directions. The red-haired boy ducked and screeched, falling from the platform into the mud.

  The crowd roared. Applause thundered. Laughter echoed. And Sunshine scrambled to his feet, trying to shield himself from the continued pelting of the fruits and vegetables. A moment later, the crowd rounded on Tanya, cheers echoing as she curtseyed.

  “Been decades since I’ve had a song written about me!” she shouted out chipperly, showing not even an ounce of embarrassment, only delight. She winked at Logash, “Shame I’m already a taken woman, though!” She grabbed Logash’s arm and pulled him back into the dance.

  As the music resumed, Aelia found herself laughing along with the rest. A genuine, unreserved laugh. The kind that bubbled up from inside and left you feeling lighter.

  Aven’s arm wrapped around her waist, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the dancers. The fear of the voidspawn, the concerns about the future, all the anxieties that plagued her mind seemed to fade away into the music. This was worth protecting. Not just the fortress, not just the empire, but this. A laugh on a frozen night. The simple, stubborn joy of people determined to live. It was the very soul of the Ideals she fought for. Harmony. Joy. Beauty.

  Yes, the festival pointed to the future. A future that held shadows darker than any they had faced before. But it also held this. And this was worth fighting for.

  * * *

  Magistrate Helena lex Avarnius-Folis learned that there was significant overlap in the stubborn negotiation tactics of the most ruthless merchants and the most incorrigible toddlers.

  “No ba’” Leda Avarnius-Folis summoned her nearly two years of eloquence to protest the coming of bathtime. “More horsie.”

  “A full morning of horseback riding is quite enough for you.” Helena carried the squirming child from the stables back towards the main house.

  Really, she should have known better than allow Emil to introduce her to the joys of riding. Now, incessant requests for rides formed the majority of her vocabulary. Now that it was getting warm enough to ride, getting Leda to do anything else without protesting was a task worthy of a Paragon.

  “If you’re good during bathtime, you’ll get more sweets,” Helena tried.

  “No ba’,” Leda countered. “More sweets.”

  Lamenting that Leda still was not at the age of productive discussion even after acquiring a modicum of control over bodily functions, Helena shouldered inside and called for the housekeeper.

  “Daisy!”

  Old Agnes had retired, but the new minari housemaid turned out to be twice as capable and four times as energetic. She swept in practically the moment the name left Helena’s lips, giving a bright smile while scooping Leda up out of Helena’s arms. Somehow managing the squealing, squirming infant far better than Helena did despite being far closer to Leda in size.

  “Now then, little mistress, your bath awaits!” Daisy twirled around, bringing squeals of joy from Leda’s mouth. “Lots of bubbles!”

  Leda’s laughter mixed with babbled agreement, apparently accepting this bribe for more readily than Helena’s attempted negotiations. Infant secured, Daisy turned back to Helena, “Hope your ride was pleasant, ma’am. Visitor came while you’re away. Gave his name as Hanion.”

  Helena’s blood went cold at the mention. The Shadow Order left letters. Directives. But it had been months since Hanion vis Dreamweaver visited in person.

  “Did he...leave a message?” Helena asked carefully.

  “Ah, he’s still here,” Daisy bounced Leda while reporting the horrors. “Master Emil invited him into the sitting room-“

  Helena didn’t hear anything else Daisy reported, entire being focused on intercepting that demon who was meeting with her husband. Old Agnes would have been shocked to see Helena running in the halls, but run she did.

  And slammed open the doors to the sitting room without caring a damn for propriety.

  Emil and Hanion were sitting across from each other. Laughing. A game of Legions spread out in front of them.

  “Helena, my love!” Emil gave her his usual earsplitting grin, leaping up to seize her in a hug as if they’d been parted for weeks instead of the approximately two hours it had been. “You never introduced me to Hanion! And I thought all your father’s friends were cads and rogues.”

  “They are,” Helena stared past her husband’s shoulder to where Hanion vis Dreamweaver was sitting in her home as if it belonged to him.

  Emil laughed, still somehow taking her words as a joke, “Pardon, Hanion, I’ve been a poor host to thrash you in such a game. I’ll leave you to Helena for proper hospitality. You’ve business to discuss, I presume.”

  “Sir, I couldn’t ask for a warmer greeting,” Hanion bowed his head. “But yes, we do have business.”

  Helena numbly felt Emil’s lips touch her cheek before he departed, leaving her alone with the monster who now controlled her.

  “Your husband is quite delightful,” Hanion chuckled, tapping his can against his knee. “I should have made his acquaintance sooner.”

  “You shouldn’t be here at all.” Helena’s nails dug into her palms. “What do you want? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”

  “Indeed.” Hanion nodded appreciatively. “And you’ve been rewarded in turn, have you not? I think you’ve thrived in your new position.”

  The Shadow Order’s presence sapped even Helena’s achievements away. How could she be proud of being Tenebras’ youngest magistrate when the position came only as a gift from Hanion vis Dreamweaver? A gift that bore the cost of perverting justice to serve the Order’s ends.

  “I’m here because we have another step for you to take.” Hanion’s cane tapped the oak floor thrice. “There is a meeting in Septentrion this spring, one of all the northern provinces. Ambassador Trellian Rosval will be leading the Tenebras delegation, and we will be joining him.”

  Just like that. No explanation. No request. Only a command.

  “Septentrion,” Helena repeated. “You expect me to just...leave for another province?”

  “Yes,” Hanion sounded delighted that she had caught on so quickly. “I assure you that Emil and Leda will be under the utmost protection in your absence.”

  Helena bit back a retort at how she felt about the Shadow Order’s “protection”.

  “Why?” Helena asked. “What could I possibly have to offer?”

  “Your presence is critical because of your familial connections.”

  “What are you talking about?” Helena asked, even though the sinking pit in her chest suspected the answer already.

  “An important personage is attending this meeting.” Hanion kept the same smile. As if this were all a joke to him. “And serving a vital role to its...success. Namely, your mother.”

  “I...haven’t spoken to her in years,” Helena protested weakly.

  “Then you’ll have chance to remedy that,” Hanion levered himself up with the cane, wincing as he did and rubbing his side. A moment of weakness entirely at odds with the control Helena felt he had over her. “Make yourself ready within a week. We’ll be departing after the next full moon.”

  Hanion walked out, tapping cane announcing his path out of the house.

  Helena waited until long after the sound faded. Long after the view from the window saw Hanion riding off into the distance. Still she waited alone in the sitting room, trying to calm herself. Mother. Seeing her again after so long.

  It had been years since she’d seen any of her family. For Aven, it had been since her wedding. And the last letter they’d exchanged had come shortly after Leda’s birth. Mere months before he murdered Father. For Mother and Viola, it had been eight years. She still sent letters that Helena refused to read. Emil had even turned burning them into a celebratory ritual.

  The more she tried to break free from the curse of House Arvanius, the more it seemed to draw her back in. Now, perhaps she could confront it. She had to. For the sake of her husband and daughter.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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