Blades of grass tickled Remy's bare ankles as she and Maksim made their way across the field. Hilda had given her a long-sleeved red dress that covered everything from her neck to her toes—courtesy of her magic—and now she was making a special effort not to trip over it as she tried to keep up with the warlock.

"You didn't tell me your dad was here," she said quietly after a painfully silent walk from Central Hall, in which she had been arguing with herself about whether to mention it.

Maksim stopped and turned, confusion crossing his features. He had not expected her to know.

"I saw him in Hilda's office. It wasn't difficult to work out," she explained, shrugging. "You have the same eyes."

"The only good thing he ever gave to me: my exquisite beauty," he responded coldly, his eyes shifting to the horizon. The sun was lowering in its pool of pink; soon it would be setting. Fear washed through Remy at the thought. She had been here too long, and her family was bound to have noticed by now, even if Sarah had covered for her.

"Are you alright?" She softened, taking a step towards him, her dress sweeping across the grass as she did. She was close enough to reach out to him, to comfort him, but she quietened the instinct inside her that told her to touch him. This was not why she was here.

"It makes no difference to me whether he is here or not. He is my father by blood, but not by action. Not anymore." He swallowed and his eyes turned stony as he looked down at Remy. "Besides, it's none of your concern."

Remy opened her mouth to respond, but another voice interrupted her. "Maksim!"

She searched for the source and found it in a silver-haired witch swaying towards them. Remy saw the resemblance to Tykon instantly, in her dark complexion and electric blue eyes that contrasted greatly with the red she was wearing. She was beautiful, almost as beautiful as Hecate, and Remy could not help but watch Maksim's reaction as he noticed her. She half-expected to feel jealous, half-expected to see him ogle her though she was sure Maksim had never ogled anyone in his life, but his eyes were still frozen on Remy, a tempest trapped in his gleaming irises.

Finally, he turned to the witch. "Tabitha."

The way he said her name implied he knew her well, and the way she looked back at him with a flush on her cheeks and expectancy on her features confirmed it.

Tabitha's gaze shifted to Remy, and she smiled kindly. "You must be the mortal girl I have heard so much about."

"Remy," Maksim corrected before Remy could. Flustered, he motioned to her with a gesture of so much force that she might have been knocked over if she had been stood any closer. "This is Remy. Remy, this is Tykon's younger sister, Tabitha."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Remy nodded softly. "It's nice to meet you. I didn't know Tykon had a sister."

"I no longer live in Astracia. I haven't for long time."

Maksim's eyes narrowed at something behind her; Tykon, and still clutching onto his arm beside him, Annika. His lips were downturned, his features carved into a mask of fury.

"I thought I made it clear that I did not want to see you, let alone here," he muttered through gritted teeth, pulling his arm from Annika's grasp. "Why are you here, Maksim?"

"You are my friend, Tykon. I wanted to pay my respects to you and your family."

"I asked him to come," Tabitha said to her brother softly, placing a manicured hand on his tensed arm. Another flicker of jealousy ignited in Remy's stomach at her words, but she extinguished it quickly.

On the other side of Tykon, Annika slid her hand into his possessively. "Let's go, Tykon. The funeral will be starting soon."

Tykon did not appear to have heard any of this. His glare remained fixed on Maksim, so intense that a shiver flitted down Remy's spine. She had never expected to Tykon to look this way, as though he might have the capability to inflict harm if he so pleased. What was worse was the way Maksim looked back at him, with the threat of danger prickling invisibly from him. 

"You are not my friend," Tykon snarled. "You and your family are the reason I have lost my mother."

Maksim's hands curled into fists, and he glanced scornfully at Annika. "If you wish to continue to place blame, that is fine, but you may wish to start with the monster whose hand you are holding at present. She had far more to do with all of this than I."

Tykon frowned in bewilderment as Annika paled, her hand loosening from Tykon's grasp.

"Maksim," Remy warned in a whisper, not because she wished to defend Annika, but because she did not want Tykon to face another heartbreak today, nor did she want Maksim to feel the guilt he was sure to feel when he was the one to cause it.

Maksim ignored her, instead laughing humourlessly. "I suppose she has not told you all she has done, has she? If she'd have had it her way, my mother would be lying in a coffin beside yours. She tried to kill her on the day of the battle."

"Enough," Remy said, this time with a loud enough voice that everyone turned to her. "Today isn't about placing blame and fighting with the people we care about. People didn't lose their lives in the battle so that we could stand here and argue about whose fault it is. Nobody wanted your mother to get hurt, Tykon, least of all Maksim. This is Ackmard's fault. This is the fault of the Dark Ones, and you can't let them tear you away from your friend. If your mother was even half as kind as you are, I don't think it's what she would have wanted for you."

Silence fell over them. Tykon's face had lost its colour as he took a step back in resignation.

"The funeral is starting," Tabitha said, looking beyond the field and past the glass pods to a platform surrounded by crowds of red. "Let's go, Tykon."

Tykon exhaled and closed his eyes, nodding. Tabitha pulled him away by the hand, with Annika following meekly behind him. Remy could not help but hope her actions would be found out when Tykon was in a well enough state to see reason. She deserved to be punished far more than Maksim.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Maksim relaxing, tugging a hand through his hair.

"Honestly, Max," she sighed, "how on earth do you survive without me?"

His cheeks were still flushed as he grimaced, unable to meet her eye. "Tykon needed to hear the truth about Annika. I will not stand by and allow him to blame me while thinking her innocent."

"I don't understand. Why is he so upset with you?"

"We immortals ... we do not know quite how to cope with death, for it is so rare and only caused by great harm and struggle. The only way to die is to be killed before there is time to use a healing spell, and how does one lose somebody whom was expected to live forever? It is impossible. Devastating. Knowing that my brother was the one to cause such pain--"

"You did nothing wrong." She inched closer to him and noticed that his hands were still in fists. She could not help but reach for one of them, uncurling his fingers gently. There were four crescent moons etched into his flesh where his nails had dug too deep, but no blood. They shocked her, but she hid it well. "It isn't your fault."

"He needed someone to blame, and who better than the brother of the evil that caused this?" He pulled his hand away, hiding them in his pockets. "It does not matter now. We should go before we are late."

Remy trailed after Maksim, cursing Hilda internally for providing her with a dress that was neither field nor walking-friendly. She hiked it up to her knee in one last moment of exasperation, catching up to the warlock.

Maksim glanced at her, smirking. For a moment, it did not look as though he was troubled by anything at all, and Remy felt relieved at least for that.

"And I thought you had suddenly learned the art of elegance," he teased. "Wishful thinking, I suppose." 

"You try walking at a decent speed with your legs tangled in an oversized dress."

"Believe me, I have—though I was not half the beauty you are, of course."

Heat rose to Remy's cheeks as she forced herself to face straight ahead, her skin prickling where Maksim's eyes rested on hers. "Yes, well," she stuttered, "that's a given. I'm not sure you have the proper physique for a gown, though I'd have liked to see you try and pull it off." 

For the first time in weeks, he smiled at her and she returned the favour.