"Ow, you're hurting me," the little girl in Vis's grip grumbled. She squirmed but could not break free of the tall redhead, who tugged her past the collapsed amphitheater and to the Collegium Pullatorum.

Above them, the great net of Trellis rubble in the sky glowed an eerie, intense blue. Vis knew it was a little warmer here than outside the broken Trellis--though nothing like before--but the cold light made her shiver.

"Why do I have to go with you?" the little girl continued.

"Because I said so." Fear clenched her throat, and the words were hard to force out. "You need a chirurgeon. Fast."

The little girl didn't look like someone on her deathbed. Vis prayed it was so, but wasn't going to take any chances.

She held the child's hand tighter as the girl dug in her heels. "I don't," the child said. "And why should I listen to you?"

"Because I'm the Rex Pullati." The words still felt like madness even three weeks after she'd become such, but the gang had agreed to Merula's recommendation.

Well, most of the gang had agreed. Their newest member glared up at her. "You lie," the little girl hissed. "Merula Nocticola's the Rex Pullati."

"No, Merula's the Rex, now," Vis said.

More madness, but the messenger from the Vola Apertus Pullati had been serious. Now Vis's gang had a big decision to make. She had a big decision to make. Would the Urbs Hostiae Pullati join their former leader--and Vis's genius little sibling, who was at the Pyrrhaei Rex's right hand? It would be suicide to oppose Lightbearer authority, but it would also be suicide for Pullati not to band together. Not as Germinating intensified and the first crop failures began.

Already, hard frost damaged some of the yields, and the city watch now kept a close eye on the dole distribution sites, even the mill beneath the bathhouse. The charity centers, where Pullati could sometimes receive surplus supplies without stealing, were now overrun by commoners who'd lost their insulas in Trellis descent and did not realize they were now Pullati. They refused to abide by their new community's rules and pool the rations to help feed as many mouths as possible.

But Vis had more immediate problems to deal with.

"No, Merula's not the Rex," the little girl said, and Vis rolled her eyes. A Pullatus now for a week, the nine-year-old apparently knew everything about her new community. And everything about everything. "The Rex is an old Lightbearer, and I don't have to do as you say because you're not a starholder like him. And you're not the Rex Pullati either."

"Yeah, well, you can argue with me about it after a chirurgeon saves your life."

Her heart pounded in her chest; she prayed the street chirurgeon would be home. With so many ill and injured Pullati and commoners throughout Urbs Hostiae, the old man had his hands full. But surely he had time for a stubborn little girl. Surely. Vis could not accept another death. She just couldn't.

The count was already two hundred thirty-seven Pullati in Urbs Hostiae and climbing. Some died in building collapses and fires during Trellis Descent last week. Several sickened in the days since then from exposure to glowing blue Trellis stones. But most perished, a few more each day, in the bitter cold descending hour by hour over the city.

"I don't need a chirurgeon," the little girl said as Vis tugged her between the Collegium Pullatorum's white marble columns.

Vis still could not believe Domi had bought the Urbs Hostiae Pullati this grand building what felt like ages ago. It had been a natural site for the new Collegium Pullatorum when Merula's orders to train Pullati for the Blightlands response had been issued. Now, it served well as an emergency shelter, field hospital, and supply distribution site. Even some commoners came here for aid.

"I feel fine," the little girl continued.

"You're not fine," Vis said, wading through piles of blankets, clothing, crates of food, and other supplies scattered across the salutatio hall. "Night-side plants are often poisonous." Or, more often, inedible, but she did not trust anything that glowed. She wasn't going to take chances. Vis shook her head, tugging the girl past white marble columns toward the far side aisle. There, row after row of groaning, sleeping, and quietly-talking patients--most Pullati, but some commoners and a handful of middle-class folk as well--rested. "I can't believe you ate that stuff."

"I was hungry," the little girl said, sniffling. She rubbed a dirty hand over her cheek, brushing away a tear. "There was nothing to eat after Ma and Pa died."

Vis's heart lurched as she recalled the sight that had greeted her when she'd peeked in the girl's tiny shack. Since Trellis Descent, Vis had been trying to gather together all of the city's Pullati homeless children and elderly people and relocate them to the Collegium Pullatorum. The process had already been underway before Trellis Descent, but now far more children lacked roofs over their heads, and temperatures continued to plunge.

Every day, she and the others searched the slums for people they'd overlooked. She'd come upon the half-collapsed shack where the little girl lived. Vis's people had been monitoring the shack for days to assess the new Pullatus's needs and begin integrating her into their community. The girl's parents had died in a clivia attack at the textile farm, orphaning their young daughter but at least leaving her with shelter--however paltry--over her head.

For a moment as Vis had passed the shack, she'd considered not going inside; the child there lived in dire poverty but at least had a roof over her head. Vis needed to prioritize her time and Pullati resources based on need.

But then something very strange caught her eye and drew her within the shack. Flowers. Flowers everywhere. The blossoms glowed ghostly white in the dim crimson sunlight filtering through the shack's drab windows. They spread over every surface, their thin, hairlike roots digging into the bare dirt floor, blanketing the filthy, hay-stuffed mattresses, and even crawling up the walls.

And sitting in the middle of the indoor flower field, stuffing her face with the tough white petals, had sat the little girl. Vis remembered screaming for her to stop--everyone knew night-side plants were inedible at best and toxic at worst--but she'd known it was too late. If the glowing petals were poisonous, the girl's only hope now was a chirurgeon.

The old man wiped his forehead as they approached, leaving behind a smear of garlic-and-honey paste Vis could smell from across the hall. "Welcome back, Rex." He squinted in the dim torchlight. "And who is this?"

Vis pushed the girl into his hands, ignoring her attempt to dig in her heels. Stubborn brat. "Please help her. She ate night-side flowers."

The Pullati street chirurgeon frowned from her to the child and back. "Where did she find such a thing?" He patted the blanket he'd spread on the ground to examine incoming patients. "Come here, dearie. Let me have a look at you."

"They were growing all over her house," Vis said, narrowing her eyes at the kid until the girl finally slumped with a huff. "Floor, walls, table, bed, everything."

The chirurgeon blinked as he guided the girl to lie back. "Strange. Reminds me of the clivia farms. I hear the creatures have been spreading some kind of web." The little girl's lip wobbled at that; her parents had not lived long enough to witness the strange phenomenon. The chirurgeon patted her hand soothingly, then curled his fingers about her wrist. "Dearie, may I listen to your tummy?"

"I heard they're filaments," Vis murmured as the old man leaned forward to press an ear to the scowling girl's abdomen. "Thank the Eternal Radiance they're not toxic. Bunias cut his hand gathering some, the fool, but it didn't do anything to him."

The chirurgeon snorted. "What did he think he was going to do with that stuff?" He straightened and smiled down at the girl. "Your tummy sounds good, and your pulse is just right. Can I listen to your lungs?" The girl shrugged, and he guided her to sit upright.

Vis rolled her eyes. "He said he wanted to turn it into yarn and throw it on the loom." Bunias apprenticed with the weavers whenever Merula--Vis now--didn't need him out snatching.

The old man arched a brow as he pressed an ear to the girl's back. "And how is that going for him?"

"Better than expected. I guess the stuff is pretty soft." Not like the razor-wire filaments the weavers usually had to soften with lye and rinse a hundred times to get all the poison out. Rich people sure liked to do the weirdest things to lord it over others. "He may soon be the only Pullatus to wear a clivia silk tunica."

The chirurgeon frowned. "Something strange is happening. This time, however, it may be in our favor." He leaned back from his patient and smiled. "I see no signs of poisoning. At least not yet. It could have a slow onset." He glanced at the girl. "How long ago did you eat the flowers, dearie? And how many did you have?"

"I've been eating them all week." She scowled as Vis and the chirurgeon both gaped at her. "What? I was hungry, and they taste good. Way better than boiled barley." She grimaced. "Well, sort of. They taste gross if I eat them when I'm not hungry."

"Interesting," the old man said. "I think you found a patch of medicine flower, my dear. You are a very lucky little girl. The blossoms are safe to eat. Good, even. I have never seen such myself, for they are extraordinarily expensive and rare. But I would dearly love to see where you found  them." His brow furrowed in confusion. "The herb is usually only found on the night-side." He glanced at Vis. "It grows in tiny patches and takes over a decade to blossom. But you said it covered the whole house?"

She nodded. "It is a tiny dwelling, but yes. The flowers grew everywhere. It was really strange."

"Strange, indeed." His eyes narrowed. "I would dearly like to see this place."