"Oh, Nadia, my dear girl! You're alive!" Mrs. Lephard said. I breathed in the scent of her lavender perfume. Her pinned curls brushed my cheeks and she held me out at arm's length to examine me. I cried all over her velvet cape. She didn't seem to mind, and I felt her own tears on my hair. "Thank God and the heavens. We heard such stories about Rumonin, I wasn't sure if... Oh, it doesn't matter now. You're safe and somehow we've been permitted by fate to find each other again!"

"I can't believe this is real. I—I must be dreaming," I said, staring into the face of the one other person besides Ferdinand who had ever made me feel safe.

"My, and speaking of dreams, is that young Ferdinand Popov lurking over there in the dark?" She held out her hand and Ferdinand came to take it.

"It is an absolute pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Lephard."

Hannabella stared at Ferdinand for a moment, her hand still resting in his. Her eyes still glistened, and when she spoke her voice sounded strained. "You're a miracle, Ferdinand. When I left Nadia, I thought for certain that her hope of finding you alive was a false one. But here you stand. And at Nadia's side. It seems the world is a kinder place than I thought."

"Thank you, for whatever part you took in keeping her safe when I couldn't," Ferdinand said. Hannabella nodded.

"Well, enough with these tears," she said, swiping at her eyes. "This is a joyous time! We are all here, and we are all safe and sound. This calls for some celebrating. What would you two say to some coffee at a café? It's nearby."

Ferdinand let out a relieved breath. "I would do anything for that, Mrs. Lephard."

"All right, it's settled. Let me just finish up here, and we'll head out."

She turned back to Millicent, who had been watching with her mouth slightly agape, and spoke a few more sentences in Flaunsian before kissing her on both cheeks and waving to the room at large.

We followed her out onto the sidewalk, where a blue carriage stood waiting on the other side of the road. I hadn't noticed it when we'd walked by earlier, but it was finely made, with yellow wheels and a pair of winter white horses. A curtain with a silk tassle hung in the window of the door, and the driver sat on a velvet cushion.

"Pop in. It's about two minute away, so we'll have a little time to talk," Hannabella said, walking over to the carriage and climbing in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I climbed the two little steps with more apprehension, hoping my boots were clean and that I wouldn't scuff the upholstered flooring. Ferdinand, much more at home than I, brought up the rear and closed the door.

Hannabella leaned forward to a little bronze vent that looked out at the road near the driver's side. "Fortuna's please, Guerny. Thank you," she said through it. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward and we were on our way.

The story of how we ended up in Flauns only lasted the short ride from our housing to the café. Hannabella listened with sympathy and rapt attention, but I could tell that she was perhaps slightly disappointed at my brief recounting which skipped over all the details.

The truth was, I couldn't bring myself to say what had happened. Trying to recall images of dead in the streets, or the way I'd been forced to pick through the mountains of corpses for bits to sell so that I wouldn't starve, made my skin crawl and my throat lock up. I wouldn't even let myself dwell on the smell of smoke in my nose and the knowledge that my old home was a gravesite for the man who'd raised me...

So I told her a shortened and vague version of my story, which wasn't exciting or heartfelt, but kept the tears safely at bay and my mind from wandering too far into shadows.

I finished as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a small café on the side road Ferdinand had been so intent on earlier. A large sign in violet and silver read 'Fortuna's', with sprigs of spring flowers framing the words. The outdoor seating was mostly empty, due to the cold wind that had picked up in the last few minutes, but through the large bay windows I could easily see the patrons sitting around cheerful tables and sipping their drinks.

Hannabella apparently came here often enough that they had a special table for her near the back of the café. We were seated at a yellow table mostly hidden behind an oak support pillar. The waiter looked flustered and excited as he came rushing to our side. His eyes gleamed, completely stuck on Hannabella, and I could see him fiddling with a notepad in his apron pocket. No doubt he wanted an autograph from the second most famous Flaunsian besides the queen.

"Three coffees and three butterscotch scones with that delightful honey butter," Hannabella said. As she spoke, she pulled from her pocketbook a small photograph of herself in the costume of one of her famous operas, along with a fountain pen. She scribbled across the bottom of the photo, and offered it to the waiter, who stared in gaped-mouth awe. "Here you are. Now, how about those coffees, yes?"

The waiter nodded so hard his hair flopped into his eyes, and then scuttled off to fetch our order. Hannabella smiled at us apologetically. Five minutes later, we were warming ourselves with rich coffee and scones infused with toasted sugar.

I absently tapped the side of my mug, but my eyes kept straying to Hannabella's face as she smiled at a staring couple a table over. Here, in her native land, dressed once again in fine velvets and feathers, she looked so different from the last time I'd seen her outside of a Vigilant Men requisitioned home and on the run for her life.

"Mrs. Lephard-"

"Please, Nadia, I think you might call me Hannabella by now."

I nodded, wondering briefly how I had become so close to the greatest opera singer in our section of the world that I could call her by her first name. "I was wondering how your own journey was. I've told you ours, but I know nothing of how you escaped Rumonin beyond that you were supposed to seek a contact who would get you out by train."

Hannabella's boisterous mood fled behind her eyes. Her mouth wavered into a thin line, and she sipped the smooth surface of her coffee. "I found him, yes. We had forged tickets, but we still had to bribe the guard who checked for anyone not on official Vigilant Men business. My contact fed him a lie about our being agitators for stirring the people in Lenostkaya, but I don't think the guard believed us. It took some smuggled Flaunsian food and clothes to have the man ignore our obvious state of escape."

"So you were able to get to Flauns without any more trouble?" I asked.

"Yes." She glanced down and pursed her lips. After a brief pause, she glanced back up. "...No. We were in a small section of a cargo car, and there for days. We couldn't leave or else risk a guard we hadn't paid off spotting us. It was cramped, dark, hot, and filthy. I wouldn't wish anyone to be in those conditions, but it was the only way for me to get back home."

"I'm sorry," Ferdinand said.

"That's not even the worst part. Our train was attacked by Flaunsian troops trying to disrupt the supply route of the Vigilant Men. I thought we'd be safe in the car, but a few stray bullets found their way through the back of the train where we were staying. My contact was hit. I tried to manage his wound until our countrymen could save us, but the Flaunsian troops were only a small skirmish and unable to take the train before the Vigilant Men were able to break the blockade and continue on their way." She tightened one hand into a fist, and then released it. "He died. I sat next to him for another day before the Flaunsians managed to stop the train for good, and they found me in the cargo car. I was returned home by that evening."

The blood drained from my face, and I reached for her arm. "That's horrible," I whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

She nodded, but didn't look at me. I knew the sunken look to her face, the way her gaze was unfocused. She wasn't thinking of this café, or me or Ferdinand. She was seeing that dead body, pressed up against her, knowing that he was gone because he had tried to help her. It was the same expression that I wore when I remembered tripping over bodies and feeling their teeth scrape my shins, or how Mr. Lennox's eyes grew wide as I closed that door and locked it.

Hannabella shook her head and looked up with a weak smile. "Let's stop talking about such things. The past is the past, and we are in the present. We are to only think of now and the glorious future."

"Here here," Ferdinand said, raising his coffee mug. Hannabella clinked hers with his and they both took a sip. I caught a worried glance from Ferdinand that he thought I wouldn't see, and I pretended I didn't. We both had enough to worry about.