Sometimes Edeline wants to take her family by the shoulders, look them in the eye, and say "You don't always know what I'm thinking."

She wants to say it to her parents when they tell her she'll be fine on her own in a new city and school. She wants to say it to Giada when her younger sister is jealous that she has this opportunity before her. She wants to say it to anyone who ever implies that to be first is to be best.

Edeline does not always want to be the pioneer among her siblings. It's the situation she's been dealt, so fine, she will shoulder it, but she would appreciate if, every once in a while, someone would commiserate with how difficult it can be rather than always telling her how lucky she is.

She doesn't feel lucky to be surrounded by students who have known each other for years, all the while eyeing her strangely for being a newcomer from outside of the capital. She doesn't count her blessings to have to don an uncomfortable uniform every day. And she definitely doesn't feel lucky to have her beloved bow lay unused in her room, no time or space to practice her shooting here in this dense city.

She does well enough in her classes. Edeline had come to Beledon because being born to blacksmiths in a small northern town isn't exactly conducive to a career in astronomy. It had been nice to arrive at the city and discover the part of herself that enjoys a scholar's role. But the young girl who was reckless, selected fallen branches from the ground for a makeshift bow, where was she? Edeline could no longer find her inside or outside of herself.

Her fortunes change quickly one day when she meets a boy at her favorite reading spot. His name is Hilo, and his eyes are bright. He wears his academy uniform haphazardly, as if he can't be bothered to follow all its strictly clean lines when there are so many other things in this world that grab his attention. His dark hair is thick and parted to one side, his skin is sun-kissed, and his mouth seems ever-poised to turn upward into a smile.

With his arrival, the world begins passing in a series of happy moments, until she's filled with the conviction that maybe luck really does lord over her life:

Hilo takes her to a poetry recitation hosted by the department of letters. It's terrible. Who would have thought there could be so many rhymes squeezed out of the word 'dragonfly'? Halfway through, their eyes meet: Hilo's in apology, Edeline's in reassuring mirth. She treasures the memory.

They make a pact: whenever Hilo's head is stuck in his legal pages, or Edeline's in the stars, they will pull each other out and away if only for a moment: to take a breath, clear their mind, do something else they love. In this way, Hilo will be able to keep his poetry, Edeline her archery.

Hilo proudly introduces her to Dalmar and Tai. Dalmar greets her with open arms, while Tai's are crossed underneath a skeptical scowl. With Dalmar, she finds a fellow confidante in the experience of being the eldest, the person upon which all parental hopes are placed first. For Tai's part, his tune changes quickly once he sees her practicing with her bow, the detachment in his gaze shifting to a respect that never leaves.

They spend endless afternoons in the academy library during that last year of study, countless hours spent preparing for university entrance exams. On one such day Edeline finds herself transfixed by the light through the windows. It's golden and heavy in these hours preceding dark, casting her and Hilo in a honey-glow as they pore over their respective books. Because she's young, even sitting with him quietly is exhilarating, and because it's been months of knowing him, she's at ease. Becoming aware of these twin sensations of excitement and contentment is how Edeline first learns she's in love.

As their final year closes—looping them right back around to summer again— all the students on the cusp of graduation host a celebration. At some point late in the wild night, Hilo ends up with a makeshift circlet in his hair, not completely sure about who's stuck it onto him. They're wearing anything but their stifling uniforms, and the sound is as loud as one would imagine from dozens of adolescents feeling accomplished. Edeline comes up to him to straighten the lopsided headpiece. She says something laughingly as she does it, but it's immediately swept up into the crush of sound. Hilo can't look away from her. Happily overwhelmed, every feeling coming in waves, his hands move of their own accord. He pulls Edeline even closer and, unplanned, tells her he loves her for the very first time.

The following year, when Edeline's siblings come to Beledon and have her retreating to a cottage at the edge of the city, their time runs short. Hilo spends his days studying at the law department's library, while Edeline has long nights charting the celestial at the observatory. They meet in the middle: somewhere in the latest hours, as his work ends and hers begins. Moments are snatched under a net of nighttime stars; shoulders pressed together, his head resting over hers. They look up to the sky while Edeline quietly points out constellations: here a phoenix, there a crown. To scrutinize them is her work, but she comes even more alive when observing them alongside Hilo. This is what love is, she thinks. You have made this thing mean more to me.

-

Over a decade later, Edeline still loves the stars best when Hilo watches them with her. The sky holds none of them now, though. Instead, it only offers the searing August daylight.

And above them, the ruins of the citadel loom.

Tai makes a signal to their cart driver. "We'll get off at the base of the hill and make the rest of the way on foot." He sounds surprisingly authoritative for someone who was griping about the heat mere seconds ago.

Dalmar climbs out of the cart first, glad to be free of its constant motion and onto the steadiness of sun-warmed grass. Hilo is next. He gallantly offers a hand to help Edeline down. Touched by the gesture, and warmed by her memories of when they were younger, Edeline keeps her hand in his even after descending. When Hilo smiles back and kisses her, it's as good as it always is.

Tai is happy enough for them but still thinks their sentimentality is laughable. Seeing the derision in his expression, Skander uses an overdramatic flourish of his own to extend an arm out. "After you, Taihei."

Playing along, Tai puts a hand over his heart and says, in a flat voice, "I'm honored. Thank you, Iskander. What a gentleman."

Hilo and Edeline are too engrossed in each other to notice they're being mocked, but Dalmar does. With an eyebrow raised, he says, "I would have guessed the actual chimera would sooner court someone than Tai. I don't know how you did it, Skander."

Tai quickly turns to him. Dalmar's look is too knowing; there's no use in a denial. Besides, Tai doesn't make it a habit of lying. "How did you know?" he asks.

"I've known you for over ten years; you never used to joke around with anyone," Dalmar says. Then, after a pause, he admits, "Also, you spent most of the cart ride looking at him. It wasn't too difficult to work out."

"What are you all talking about?" Lionel asks, bounding over from the cart he'd traveled in. He dons his customary wide grin; unlike the others, who are half-sick of heat and the windless woods, he had had a nice time during their trip. He had rested his head on Zahara's lap, felt the soothing brush of her fingers through his hair and listened to the call of cardinals from branch to branch.

Dalmar gestures toward Tai and Skander, the latter looking vaguely guilty. "I was just congratulating Tai and your brother," he says.

"Congratulating them on-" Lionel's confused expression morphs into one of wide-eyed shock as he looks back and forth between them. He finally pieces it together.

"Why do you look so scandalized?" Tai snaps. "We're not even doing anything."

Lionel ignores him and looks accusingly toward his brother. "I knew you'd been gone more than usual lately. It was because of him?"

"Yes," Skander says, trying not to wince at Lionel's incredulity.

"Him?"

"Yes."

"Him?!"

Skander gives him a look. Tai's been glaring from the beginning.

Lionel struggles to bring his voice back to a reasonable level. "But you always used to complain about him," he says to Skander.

"That's called overcompensation," Tai says drily.

Skander frowns. "This is why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd react this way." He gestures up to the hill. "We can talk about this later. We're losing daylight."

The group begins to climb the path that snakes up the hill toward Sunset Citadel's walls. Lionel, not to be deterred, tries to jostle his way between Skander and Tai.

"You can do better," he announces. "The very first thing he said to me was that I needed to take my shoes off so that I wouldn't ruin his carpet. I don't approve."

"Then it's a good thing your brother is a grown man who doesn't need your permission," Tai snaps, voice sharp with impatience.

"That doesn't mean my opinion doesn't matter to him."

Skander waves a hand at them, deep in thought. "Not now, you two. Really. I'm trying to think of an excuse for them to let us all in."

They've almost reached the crest of the hill, where the outer ring of the wall is manned by a duo of absentminded guards. With the threat of the specters removed, the garrison has become notably more relaxed.

When Skander spots the guards, his eyes light up. "Wait here," he says to the group.

He goes forward to embrace one of the sentinels on duty, exchanging greetings like a pair of old friends. Tai can't hear what they're saying from this distance, but Skander has put on a face of sheepish innocence as he explains something to the guard. Tai doesn't know how he's able to summon such a guileless mask from thin air, never letting it slip. After less than a minute of conversation between them, the gate creaks open.

It's only when their group is well into the nearly deserted garrison town that Tai, who doesn't know how to change anything about himself and doesn't really care to try, looks at Skander with some wonder. "What did you say to get us in so quickly?"

Skander smiles at him. The vivid afternoon light brings out the dark brown tones of his hair. "We were lucky. That guard had been on the scouting trip with me. I just told her I had forgotten something at the citadel and had come back for it, and that you all came along to make sure you hadn't missed anything either; not a very good story, maybe, but since she already knew me, she wasn't suspicious at all."

Tai considers him. "Should I be concerned about your ability to lie well?"

Whatever playful warmth is in his eyes as he asks this is enough for Lionel to cut in disapprovingly. "Stop looking at each other like that. The rest of us are still here," he says.

Tai glares at him.

Approaching the doors of the citadel is disheartening. It's now a building of broken windows, fallen debris, and unkempt overgrowth. What's left of the towers is topped by shreds of old banners, the colors barely distinguishable from one another thanks to the weathering of time.

Decayed as the aged wooden doors are, they remain firmly in place when Kit strides forward to try tugging them open. "The locks must have rusted," she says. She takes a step back, hands on her hips as she surveys the walls in search of a foothold.

"Please don't try to climb into the ruins of the citadel, Kit," Dalmar says, with the look of someone who has had to issue similar warnings many times over the years. "It could crumble underneath you, and then I'll have to fix all your broken arms and legs. I'm not meant to be working today, so please don't do that to me."

"It'll be fine," she says as she approaches the wall.

Before she can put any weight on the stone, Kalila darts forward. "Hang on," she says, pulling at a string around her neck.

Dangling at the end of it is her old skeleton key. She fits it into the lock— holding her breath as she tries to turn it— and grins in sharp satisfaction when it does so with ease.

Kit looks surprised at this, and Kit's never surprised. "Has your gift been working this entire time?" she asks.

Kalila shakes her head while struggling to open the now-unlocked-but-still-seriously-heavy doors. "It didn't, but your theory was that if any trace of Jasper remained, it would be here, right? So I thought that if there's anywhere our gifts might ever work again, it would also be here. I brought my key along just in case it turned out to be true."

Kit gives her a grudging smile. "Clever," she says. She reaches out to playfully tug once at a lock of Kalila's hair, then helps her pull open the doors.

What they find there freezes Kalila, all triumph disappearing from her face.

"You?" she asks, mouth agape. Of course this had to happen. Things had been going a little too well for them: first Skander's friend being posted on guard duty, then her key working within moments. She could have used a third stroke of luck, but it looks like that won't be the case.

From its seat atop a pile of rubble in the entrance hall, the sage of the Untaught Woods grins at her. "Hello, key-girl. Told you I'd see you again soon."