Lord Deus hosted a gathering for members of ascender households. They were of moderate size, with varying ages. Tenrad yelled at the children in his family to behave. Jay Arson was present too, the sole representative of his household in his father’s absence.

  Speaking of absences, all but one Sorel was present. Schemel had not budged from her stance on the Midder-Lands, enduring pressure from both the Assembly and the Yunnish government. Jenne had heard rumours she would soon relent, that the situation was bound to de-escalate. He hoped those rumours were true.

  Demettle’s home had a vintage feel, as though everything belonged in a museum. Chandeliers, paintings, candleholders, thick carpets—it was all deliberately old-fashioned. His dossi wore suits and gloves, strolling about the room with trays of wine. Hamis, Jenne, and Ashey were joined by Isse that day, and they placed themselves at the end of the room near a decorated wall.

  “I still can’t believe you live like this every day,” Jenne said, still looking around.

  “It’s not that much,” said Hamis.

  “There are paintings on your ceiling, Hamis.”

  Hamis and Isse both tilted their heads back, gawking as though noticing it for the first time.

  “Our house is bigger,” Ashey said. “And better. This place smells like old people.”

  “It has a pleasant smell, but you don’t have the right nose for it,” Hamis countered. “Work on your magic and maybe you’ll start enjoying life.”

  Ashey stuck his tongue out at him. The two began to bicker. Jenne, unwilling to get dragged in, pulled away slightly. He noticed Isse casting glances his way before quickly looking elsewhere. He could hear how slippery her palms were. She tapped her left leg at a constant pace.

  “Why do you think your grandfather invited us?” he asked, hoping to put her at ease. “Do you know?”

  She let out a slight squeal. Hamis and Ashey froze, surprised to hear Jenne speaking unprovoked. Isse’s silver eyes widened into full circles, her hands fumbling for a lock of her hair. She turned to Hamis for help. He only flashed a smile at his baby sister.

  “It’s, um… it’s about the war—no, there’s no war anymore,” she stammered. “It’s about Schemel.”

  Ashey sank her neck into her chest, disgusted.

  “I guess,” said Jenne, finding his fingers in his hair. “That should’ve been obvious. I was hoping it was something else, though.”

  “Like what, Jenne?” said Ashey. She looped her arm through his, poking a finger into his cheek. “Tell me.”

  “No, it’s dumb,” he drawled.

  At that, applause broke out in the room. Demettle stood before everyone, staff in one hand and a wineglass in the other. The old Deus had begun a speech, his words inaudible until they moved closer.

  “…trying times ahead. We are the most influential households, yet not as powerful as we like to believe. This country is not as safe as it once was. We must be careful how we move about these days. Bad actors do not care about our differences. Once they attack one of us, we all go down.”

  Everyone took the strange message differently. Jay yawned. Sirios Deus kept his eyes fixed on Hamis and Isse. Mariel Sorel whispered something to Helen, and together they turned in search of Ashey.

  Demettle nodded to Mariel, who said, “Ashamel, please come.”

  The mention of her name spooked Ashey. She quickly tucked her phone into her side bag and hurried past the guests. Demettle turned towards a small door, Mariel and Helen following in his wake.

  “Jenne,” called Isse from behind. “I want to show you something.”

  Was that even allowed? Hamis was already trailing the dossi into the kitchen, pestering them about lunch. None of the other guests seemed to care much about what was happening. Isse’s nerves tightened with each moment he delayed answering. Honestly, he didn’t want to spend any time alone with her. But neither did he want to offend her, so he followed her up the stairs, feeling her father’s eyes on them the whole way.

  “What do you want to show me?”

  “My room. It’s right here.”

  “Why do you want to show me your room?”

  She reached the door, and it opened by itself. Isse lingered at the entrance, gesturing for him to come in.

  “Because you had something you wanted to tell me,” she said. “I’m guessing you wanted us to be alone before you did.”

  He knew better than to follow her. After Verimae, he preferred crowded places where society itself could shield him. But Isse seemed harmless enough—and he’d already followed her this far. Eventually, Ashey would come knocking. He stepped inside and pressed his back against the door. She forced a grin, still visibly unsettled, and perched at the edge of her bed.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The room was spacious, so large the bed didn’t even touch the walls. Framed portraits of Firios and Jacqolin hung on one side. A shelf brimmed with books, and a mannequin stood beside an open closet, half-dressed in some half-finished design. Art and fashion—so much like Verimae. As unreasonable as it was, a part of him believed he wouldn’t make it out of this room alive.

  “So,” said Isse. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “Right. I thought Regilon was back from the south.”

  “He left for the south?” Isse tilted her head. “Firios would’ve been disappointed that I missed that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He asked me to spy on him once,” she said, grinning. “I work with the Sentry.”

  “Do you miss him?” Jenne asked quietly. “Your uncle, I mean.”

  “We do,” she replied. “Firios was everything to us. He was the only Gaverian left in our family… well, except for my mom, but she’s not in the country.” She frowned. “Where was Regilon going? I didn’t see him in the news when the HF went after Genevie.”

  She raised a hand and snapped her fingers. “Blackwood. You’re from Blackwood. Are you scared for your family? We still don’t know what’s happening down there.”

  Her words left him hollow. Jenne refused to cry in front of her—it would make him look foolish. So, he forced a smile instead.

  Isse leaned closer. She didn’t carry the alcoholic fragrance that clung to Hamis and the other Deus. “Jenne, I know exactly how you feel.”

  She took his hand and gently pulled him away from the door. Her steps were noiseless across the carpet. They stopped at the window. Without hesitation, she stepped out—onto solid air. Then she turned, extending her hand.

  And he took it.

  A floating house revolved around the mansion. It came by once, and she dropped onto its roof with Jenne. The house rose high, above the mansion’s roof. Isse slid onto the porch, helping Jenne do the same.

  “We shouldn’t go very far,” he said.

  Isse smiled back. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and outstretched her hands. The building spun about, spiralling higher with the grace of a dancer. The world became a canvas of greens under the yellow sun. The marker field surrounding the house blocked out the roaring wind. He had to admit, it was comforting to be isolated like this.

  “Look,” said Isse, pointing westward. He saw nothing but the city. She lifted them higher, revealing the Ossen Sea.

  “I’ve wanted to cross that sea so many times. Just to experience home before it's gone. Our mother tells us a lot about the Grem Islands. I’ve asked my father many times to let me and Hamis visit, but he always says no.”

  “What’s happening to the Grem Islands?” Jenne asked, though he already knew.

  “The Grem Markers fought on the earthens’ side during the Great Oppression. The Assembly sent Jacqolin and my mom over there to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again. They try to make it sound like a good thing, but it doesn’t feel that way.” She stopped herself at once and put a little space between them. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, please,” Jenne insisted. “I’ve never heard anyone talk about the Grem. I want to hear more.”

  “Why?” she asked. “It doesn’t feel like something children should be talking about.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said. “And I’m not a child anymore. You, maybe, but not me.”

  “I’m not a child either,” she shot back quickly. “I’m just a year and three months younger than you.”

  “How do you know my birthday?”

  She ignored him. “So, about the Grem. I don’t care what everyone says. I think Jacqolin and my mom and whoever is on their side are wrong. We should all live free. Henrikia doesn’t own anyone.”

  Her sentiment for the Grem wasn’t quite like how he felt about Blackwood. She came from a good place, however. She had a good heart. He admired that. What had stopped him from getting to know her all this time? Isse was not as bad as he wanted her to be.

  “I love you,” she said.

  The thing about grass blades is that they don’t grow too long. And what do you know about ants? They’re small and bite a lot. Why do ants bite? Why are clouds grey? What is beneath the Living World?

  “You don’t have to answer right away,” said Isse. “I thought you and Ashey are just friends.”

  Her silver eyes were wet, but she didn’t cry. She was a brave girl. Very strong. They floated together and ended up in her bedroom. They both stood and watched each other. Isse wanted to die but that was okay, he wanted to die too.

  Slowly he turned and walked away and out of the bedroom, and right into Hamis. His marker friend was chewing on something, with crisp crumbs littering his mouth. He scanned Jenne for a brief moment, narrowed his eyes at the door, and then shrugged, turning around. “My grandfather wants to see us.”

  “What for?”

  “Something about Ashey. Not sure.”

  The walk back to the main party felt longer than necessary. And the silence between him and Hamis made it all the worse. What was Hamis going to think, seeing Jenne walk out of his sister’s room like that? Did he care? Or did he not want to care? What if I’m overthinking it? No, but what would he think of you following his sister into her bedroom?

  “Jenne,” said Hamis. “Calm down. My grandfather is not a monster. He doesn’t kill earthens for fun… anymore.”

  “That wasn’t funny.”

  “Kind of was,” Hamis chuckled.

  Demettle’s meeting room had three others present. Ashey, as well as Mariel and Helen. Ashey was on her feet, her fists folded and furious. Mariel was stuck on a sofa, fanning herself with a booklet. Helen and Demettle were speaking in whispers, which seized the moment they noticed Hamis and Jenne had arrived.

  None spoke to the two as though it was to be a staring contest. Demettle dismissed Helen. He placed two hands on his staff and smiled at the earthen. “Hamis, Jenne, please sit.”

  Demettle spared him the torment of anticipation and spoke at once. “Among the ascenders who currently reside in the Home of Heroes, Ashamel is the most disappointing. I say that out of deep respect for who she is and what she is capable of. Helen informs me she has chosen to forfeit Se Fina. That comes with certain inconveniences we must address. Security will escort Ashamel wherever she goes—school or elsewhere. Yet it may not be enough. That is why I need the two of you to keep an eye on her as much as you can.”

  “Why, though?” Hamis asked. “Is she in some kind of danger? And why use inexperienced students for the job?”

  “There is no need to undersell yourself. I am well aware of your success at Se Fina. How about I tell you something I had been saving until now? We have gathered intelligence that there may be Myersian groups who wish to harm Schemel’s daughter—as revenge for what the High Commander has done to their land.”

  Hamis and Jenne exchanged looks. It made sense to both of them.

  “Aster,” Demettle said, “do you have any questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you paid Regilon a visit since his return?”

  “I did not know he was back, sir.”

  “I hear he’s been investigating matters concerning Blackwood. With Genevie gone, everything should settle soon—unless otherwise. Speak to him once he wakes. Perhaps he might even escort you home himself.”

  “Sir?”

  Demettle’s eyes fixed on him, unblinking. “If you had a choice between going back home and becoming a Gaverian, which would you choose?”

  There was the honest answer, and there was the right one. Jenne knew which to utter.

  “Henrikia is my home.”

  “If you insist,” Demettle said.