I'd seen nothing like Ètrevay before. In Rumonin, even the most gorgeous buildings had been heavy and ancient, like they'd always been standing there through wars and turmoil and strife. They stood against harsh winters and brief summers, testaments to a people who valued strength and industry. Ètrevay was nearly the opposite.

I turned around and around on this sidewalk, looking at the splendor. On every corner there were marvels of architecture. Spires rose on the edges of homes that glowed as their brilliant red bricks caught the winter sunshine. The public buildings and businesses were more like temples, with massive marble pillars and gorgeous moldings that crested like waves and statues of chubby angels and hunched demons dotted around. Gold roofs blinded me as I squinted up at the building we stood in front of. I had no idea what use it had, but it stretched longer than any of the other buildings. The stairs that led to its doors were as wide as the building itself, and men stood on them in black suits and talked and ate. Pigeons flew in gray blurs, the shush of their wings and their coos eaten by the sound of the carriage and motorcars.

"Oh, Ferdinand! It's the most gorgeous place I've ever seen."

He didn't respond, but I was too busy looking at the banners that graced every single doorway that I could see. Shining emerald silk, swathed in elegant curves, and painted with a white silhouette of a woman's profile. A crown sat above her piled hair, and I knew it had to be Queen Leonore. My heart skipped at the sight.

"Did you know anywhere could be so brilliant?" I breathed.

Ferdinand still said nothing, and I turned to see if he was paying attention.

He leaned against a pillar, his eyes closed and beads of sweat standing out against his suddenly sallow skin.

"Ferdinand?"

I started toward him, but before I could reach his side, his legs buckled and he keeled forward into the snow. I rushed to him, trying to turn him over as I patted his cheeks and called his name. A small group of men and women, drawn by the commotion, gathered over us, talking away in Flaunsian. A woman motioned for me to prop Ferdinand up, and, when I'd done so, held a small vial under his nose. She wafted it around until his eyelids fluttered and opened.

As he slowly came to, the small crowd looked to me and said a few things with concerned looks on their faces. I shook my head to show them I didn't understand. They frowned but continued to ask me questions in Flaunsian, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks as they pressed in close. Some of the men talked amongst themselves, one dashed off, and then he returned and pressed a cup of tea into Ferdinand's hands. Steam and the smell of peppermint curled in the air, and Ferdinand's hands shook as he took a few sips. I held him in a sitting position.

"What happened?" Ferdinand asked, handing me the cup of tea. It warmed my fingers and I brought it close to my middle.

"You fainted."

"Fainted? I prefer 'passed out'." He gave me a withering stare, pretending his pride was hurt. I wasn't in the mood for joking.

"You're exhausted. We can't keep walking like this. We need to find somewhere to stay," I said.

"Where? We don't have any money, and even if we did, I doubt Flauns would take Ruma anymore. They're flooded already."

I turned to the nearest man. "Do you know anywhere we can stay? A place we can work in exchange for a room?"

He stared at me blankly, and I sighed in frustration. "A room? I don't know how to say it in Flaunsian." I ran my hands through my hair as the man shook his head and shrugged.

Ferdinand tried. "Loen stalles pera vausara?"

The people around us looked nearly as mystified at this halting and botched version of their language as they were with Rumonin, but one of the ladies seemed to understand him well enough to start explaining to the others. They all looked relieved to finally find what we wanted, and when the woman came over to my side, she smiled as if this was a social visit.

She held a paper that one of the men had given her, and she held it out to me. It was a map of Ètrevay, one of the mass-produced ones that were on cheap brown paper with smeared ink. Buildings and streets were labeled in type. I recognized none of the flowery names, and I only knew where we were currently located when the woman pointed to a circular collection of roads and then pointed toward the large building behind us.

"We're here?" I asked, but she was already going on in Flaunsian, pointing to a road that was to our right and then locating it on the map. She traced the road, cut to a smaller road that branched off into a 'v' around some buildings, and then tapped a row of buildings.

"What is that?" I asked.

She tapped it again, her eyebrows up and a smile on her face. She said something in her own language, and then pointed to Ferdinand. She mimed sleeping, and then nodded her head as if encouraging someone.

"Somewhere to sleep?" I glanced at Ferdinand. "Is that what she's saying?"

"I caught something about rooms at that address, but that's about it. She has a different dialect than the one I learned."

"Thank you," I said, nodding my head to try and signal to her that we understood.

This seemed to placate our small crowd, and they finally began to disperse. I wished I could express my gratitude so that they would understand me, but I couldn't dwell on it for too long. Ferdinand was still weak, and the spot the woman had pointed out on the map was still a long walk yet.

I gave him a few more minutes of rest, but didn't want to leave him there too long. The snow wasn't the best place for him to sit, and when I judged the color in his cheeks to be satisfactory, I put an arm under his shoulders and helped get him on his feet.

After a grueling hour's worth of walking, filled with long breaks while Ferdinand caught his breath, we made it to our destination. It wasn't one building, but a set of them, all painted pastel colors or made with sandy-yellow bricks. They rose multiple stories into the sky, with many windows smashed close together, and doors spaced in intervals along the connected fronts. In front of them, a squat building sat on the road front, the doors opened and a glimpse of the interior visible. I caught a few flashes of skirts and jackets as people moved around inside, and desks covered in papers and lime-colored lamps that glinted in the slanted sunlight.

"Think it's safe?" Ferdinand asked, pressing a hand to his ribs and leaning on me. We both stared at the squat building before us, remembering other buildings from the city we'd left behind. My blood went cold as my mind fabricated rifles and the smell of rot, and I tightened my grip around Ferdinand.

"We'll see."

We walked to the front doors and entered the interior. Coming from the sunshine, everything looked dark and shadowed, and it took a moment to locate the central desk toward the end of the small entry hall. A woman in a neat dress and her hair pinned with an amber clip looked up and smiled. She'd been writing, but she placed the quill back in its fountain and beckoned us closer.

As we approached, she asked something in Flaunsian, but before Ferdinand could puzzle it out enough to answer, she seemed to recognize the confusion on our faces and switched to Rumoni.

"You are refugees?" she asked. Her Rumoni was very good, if accented.

"Ah. Y-yes," I replied. "I think so?"

The woman folded her hands in front of her on her chestnut desk and smiled. "Yes, there are so many refugees from the Triplet Cities. The war in Rumonin has driven many from their homes in Lenostkaya, Prest, and Rumonin itself. Our Queen Leonore, after seeing the poverty and desperation that came from the dislocation, has offered temporary housing for refugees seeking somewhere to shelter."

"We are from Rumonin," I said, edging closer to the desk. "Would we be able to get a room here? My- my husband is wounded and needs somewhere safe to heal."

"Of course. You need only sign some papers and a room will be assigned to you. I can also call one of our doctors to come and look over your husband, if that is something you would wish."

I had to stop myself from crumpling to the floor right there and crying. "Yes. Yes, that would be so kind. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I am only too happy to help." The woman pushed away from her chair and turned to open a bank of cabinets. Papers burst out of the drawers, and she dug for a moment to find the one she wanted.

She came to my side and placed the paper on the desk in front of me. "I need you to put your name here," she said, tapping a line under some Flaunsian writing. "It's only for our records, so we'll be able to construct some order whenever the Triplet Cities are in the right place to need it."

I bit my lip, looking down at the paper. The woman noticed and peeked over my shoulder. "Do you need me to write your name? I can. It doesn't have to be a signature.

I shook my head, a flush rising to my cheeks. "No, I know how to write." I quickly scribbled my name, Nadia, into the space and then hesitated. Then, before I could think myself out of it, I finished it with Ferdinand's surname.

Nadia Popov.

My cheeks burned a bit, but I knew it would offer some safety. If anyone wanted to find me from Rumonin, it would be harder if I was not Nadia Surikov any longer. Perhaps under Ferdinand's name, I could become someone new.

The woman turned to Ferdinand once the ink had dried on my name, and offered him the quill. He grimaced as he shuffled over and leaned on the desk to write his name below mine. If he noticed my change in name, he didn't mention it.

"Thank you," the woman said. "I'll have someone show you to one of our empty rooms. We'll bring you some dinner as well, but normally we eat meals in this building just down the hall."

As we stood by the desk, the woman walked to a corner near the door and talked to a young man, who then came over to us with a smile. He must not have spoken our language, as he didn't offer any words. He merely motioned for us to follow him, and then walked through the door that led further into the building.