Viséan walked like every road was paved for him.

No matter where he moved, he always seemed to be front and center, a spot of light even in the sun. Cretara mentioned the five evaluated children the Chosen Family welcomed into their family were ranked. First Chosen must mean first-in-line for the throne. Antonia had only seen people look at Trajan or Octavia the way they looked at Viséan. She found herself endlessly fascinated as they waded further into town.

"Where are we again?" she whispered to Nema.

The town itself was surprisingly gray. Antonia had always been told that Cambria was a desert, but here, thick clouds hung above, obscuring most of the beach from sunshine. Houses around them were all built on stilts, prepared for any storms to bring the water rising toward them. Antonia could see fishermen and dock workers, all with water magic, bowing their heads as Viséan passed.

"Nos," Nema murmured. Antonia nodded. Nema was the only one who could draw attention away from Viséan. Antonia thought it might be for the reasons she found herself endlessly staring at her, but the more they walked, the more it became clear it was wariness, not admiration, in these Cambrians' eyes.

"Nos is an ugly town," Antonia decided when a few muttered unkind words in Nema's direction. She had never heard the word 'Htraehean' said like sin.

How was it that Antonia had spent years not knowing Nema's heritage, but these Cambrians could clock it the second they caught sight of her?

"Nos is a country, not a town," Viséan commented from in front of them. He glanced over his shoulder, also studying Nema. "Try not to be too harsh. Htraeheans aren't known to be very nice around these parts." His eyes drifted to where Cretera and Elbon were also following. Antonia hadn't even noticed them trailing behind, but Viséan seemed to analyze every step he took. "Friend of yours?" he asked and then dismissed the question before anyone could answer. They were on a cobbled path, heading toward a large stable where three horses were waiting. "Of course the man is. One girl is born with magic, and Htraeh clings to faith like a child to a blanket."

"One girl born with magic is all the gods need," Elbon cut in coldly. Viséan's lips twitched. "You said you're First Chosen?" he asked. Viséan nodded. "Then you have the Aik to answer to. Or do you plan on telling your father that your proficiency for diplomacy is a sham?"

Viséan's nostrils flared, eyes narrowing as he studied Elbon. Cretara stood between them, lips quirked upward in amusement. Viséan also gave her a wary look before rolling his eyes, turning to yell something over his shoulder at the stableboys. It was only then that the Cambrian registered. Words that would normally baffle her suddenly made a strange amount of sense.

"Are you doing that?" she asked. Viséan hummed a questioning noise. "I can't speak Cambrian. How can I understand you? How can he?" she asked, gesturing to Elbon.

Viséan laughed. "We were actually speaking Nosean. Each country here has its own language. Cambrian is merely the common tongue for the empire, but as an ambassador, this Htraehean can speak almost all of our languages just fine," he said, jutting his chin to Elbon. "If I used any magic on him, we'd be at war." He turned around, walking backward to face them all, jutting out his chin slightly. "Isn't that right, friend? How is my diplomacy looking now?"

Elbon sneered as Cretara gave a derisive snort of amusement. Viséan gave Antonia a quick wink, ignoring Nema's bristling as she absently tugged at her robes.

"That doesn't answer her question," Nema said, eyes narrowing. "How can she understand you?"

"It answered one of her questions."

"Answer the rest," Nema retorted coldly. "And remember that using magic on someone without their permission isn't very nice, no matter what religion they follow."

Viséan stopped walking. Had they already stumbled into a fight? Antonia tensed, readying for anger, but Viséan held out his palm. White light zipped to his palm. When he spoke again, it was in Romanovian, his voice now accented.

"I used my magic on you," he said bluntly. Antonia pressed a hand to her chest, a little indignant. The only person who had dared to use magic on her was Octavia. It felt dirty for someone else to use such power against her. "Don't feel bad you didn't notice. Chosen Magic is more, uh, malleable than others. Since it isn't tied to the elements, most people don't notice it unless we want them to," he said with a small smile. "Just now, it allowed you to translate whatever language you heard," Viséan continued. "Candidly, I wanted to see if you would notice I had used my magic given your gifts." He closed his hand, and the white absorbed into his hand, letting white streaks shoot down his veins. "But your wife is right that I should have asked first."

Antonia probably should have been horrified to know he had so easily and discreetly used magic on her, but part of her was thrown by the fact he had called Nema her wife.

It reminded her of a conversation she had with her father one night, settled by a dimming lamp with Stories of Second Sons between them and Antonia playing with the black necklace around her neck.

"...I don't want to get married."

Antonia's finger was drifting over inked words. It told the tale of Norman Thalestris, the secondborn who had married not one but four different people to secure various allegiances for Romanov. Antonia read over the names of Norman's three wives before letting her gaze stray to the one male name on the list.

"How else are you going to have children?" her father asked. Antonia cringed at the words, jerking her hand away from the book. Her father frowned, surprise flickering alongside the flames. "What concerns you?" he asked, sitting up. "Does marriage seem to be such a curse?"

He looked hurt, and it took Antonia a moment to realize why. He was thinking of her mother. While far from an expected match, her parents loved one another dearly. Still, there were whispers that their marriage was nothing more than a bandage to cover up political troubles.

Antonia sat up, already shaking her head. If anything, her parents made marriage look far more enticing than it actually was.

"I... think..." Her father waited. Antonia stared back at him. "It wouldn't suit me."

Another pause.

"...no?" her father asked, sounding somewhere between confused and intrigued. "Why not?"

Antonia considered her options. Her eyes went to Stories of Second Sons and then back to her father. Pointedly, she folded her hands together.

"Men," she began and then wrinkled her nose. "They are very nice."

Her father blinked. "The good ones are, yes."

"But even the good ones are...." Antonia raised both her hands. Her father leaned forward as if that might prompt a response. More silence. "But, you know, girls are...." She put her hands together. "Very pretty."

Antonia felt her stomach twist when no answer came right away. Her father didn't seem upset, though. If anything, he looked bewildered. "All of them?" he finally asked. Antonia scowled. The lamp flickered between them, and her father snorted before slapping the table between them. "Toni, it sounds like you do want to get married. You just don't want to marry a man."

Oh. Well... Antonia hadn't realized that was an option.

"If I marry a woman, I can't have heirs," she pointed out.

Her father shrugged. "I have three children for a reason. Trajan is the heir. If he does not have children, then Octavia's future sons would be next in line." Her father tilted his head. "What are the chances all three of you prefer-?"

"This doesn't bother you?" Antonia interrupted. Her father smiled a little. "Did you know?"

From the window, the moonlight was beginning to drift on the table, the white light mixing with the orange of the lamp, casting dark shadows in an array of assorted shapes. Her father tapped his fingers against the wood, trying to hide his amused expression.

"I might have noticed that you... struggle to speak to certain people." Antonia's mouth dropped. "The only thing that bothers me is that you might get too flustered around women to find a wife."

"Unbelievable."

Her father's laughter echoed in her head as the clunking of wood recaptured her attention. She was with Nema and Viséan again. Standing in front of the stables, where several horses were being brought forward. Antonia risked a glance at Nema. Her hair whipped in the wind as she whispered something to the horse in greeting.

Antonia had never asked her father what he thought of Nema. Never spoken of the way her smile made Antonia feel safe and that everything she did left Antonia completely enchanted. She wished she had. She wondered if he had liked her.

After all, Antonia and Nema had danced around one another for years. Perhaps her father could tell there was something between them. It felt obvious, but even Antonia couldn't quite put a name to it. She supposed, by technicality, they were friends. They never admitted to more than that. At least, Antonia hadn't.

Not because she didn't feel strongly enough about Nema. By spirits, yes, she did. It was that Antonia's magic... complicated things. While she had always loved her special secret, her family had only worried for her. Was it fair to tie herself to Nema when she knew that fate awaited her? To be constantly worried? And now hunted?

Antonia should have never let Nema join her on this expedition. She should have convinced her to run away somewhere safe. Somewhere where Antonia wouldn't make her a target. She should have-

Nema caught her gaze and smiled.

And just like that, Antonia was sure that her father would have enjoyed hearing Viséan call Nema her wife almost as much as Antonia did.