The seasons turned. Cassandra's reading improved. My climbing improved. Our Anima grew closer; Raikiri's bristling wariness around Azurene had transformed into something like protectiveness, and my dragon had developed a habit of curling around the raiju during their naps, scales pressed against crackling fur.
He dreams in lightning, Azurene told me one night. I can feel it. Bright flashes, then darkness, then flashes again. Like a storm trying to break free.
What do you dream of?
Clouds. Rain. The feeling of wind beneath wings. She paused. And you. Always you.
That's very sweet.
Don't tell Cassandra. She'll never let me live it down.
I taught Cas the names of the stars. She taught me the names of every street rat who mattered, their territories, their grudges, their histories.
I snuck her palace pastries wrapped in cloth. She showed me where to find the best hot chestnuts in the city, sold by an old man with a crow Anima who never asked questions.
I told her about my family; about Aldric's dutiful perfection, about Caelum's polished ambition, about Celeste's quiet invisibility. About Iris, the baby sister who was growing up too fast, who looked at me sometimes with eyes that saw too much.
She told me about hers. About her father's rough hands and gentle heart. About her mother's tired smiles and the mending that never paid enough. About the weight of being the daughter with the impossible Anima, the one everyone expected great things from even as they stepped over her in the streets.
"They're proud of me," she said once, late at night, when the stars were bright and Raikiri's glow had dimmed to almost nothing. "I can see it sometimes. When I come home and tell them what I've learned, what I can do. But there's fear there too. Like they're waiting for something to take me away."
"Nothing's going to take you away."
"You don't know that." She was looking at the palace on its hill. "Something always does."
The months blurred together in a way time never had in the palace. There, every day was scheduled, portioned out in lessons and meals and mandatory appearances. Here, with Cas, time flowed differently. Sometimes a night felt like minutes. Sometimes a single conversation stretched until dawn.
I was happy.
The realization hit me one morning, climbing back through my window as the sun crested the eastern walls. I was happy. Not content, not satisfied, not performing the appearance of wellbeing for an audience of tutors and servants. Genuinely, completely happy.
It was terrifying.
Why terrifying? Azurene asked.
Because it can't last.
Why not?
But I didn't have an answer for that. Not yet.
The threats crept in slowly. So slowly I almost missed them.
On the palace side, it started with looks. A servant who watched me too closely when I returned to my chambers. Questions from my tutors about my "distraction." Aldric commenting at dinner that I seemed "elsewhere lately."
"You've been tired," he said, not accusingly. Aldric never accused. He observed. "Late nights reading?"
"Something like that."
"Father's been asking about your progress. The academy entrance assessments are next year."
"I know."
"Do you?" He studied me with that calm, dutiful gaze that saw more than I wanted it to. "You seem... different lately. Less present."
"I'm fine."
"I didn't say you weren't fine. I said you were different."
The conversation moved on. But I felt the warning in it.
On the street side, the threat was more immediate. A face I didn't recognize watching from an alley. Whispered conversations that stopped when Cas and I approached. Goff's territory pushing closer to the rooftop, his people marking walls with crude symbols that Cas pretended not to notice.
"He's curious," she said when I asked. "That's all. New things make him curious."
"What kind of curious?"
"The kind that goes away if you ignore it."
But Raikiri's lightning crackled more often now. And Azurene stayed alert during our visits, her attention drifting to shadows and doorways in a way it hadn't before.
Something's wrong, she said one night.
What?
I don't know. But something's watching.
I looked around. Saw nothing. Felt the prickle on the back of my neck anyway.
"Vale?" Cas was watching me. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just... thought I heard something."
She accepted the lie. Or pretended to. We were both getting good at that.
The servant's name was Merton.
I discovered this the hard way, returning from a visit to find him waiting in the corridor outside my chambers. An older man, grey-haired, with a wolfhound Anima that watched me with knowing eyes.
"Young master." He bowed, perfectly correct. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Indeed." His gaze flicked to my clothes; common-cloth wrappings I hadn't thought to change yet. "The night air must have been invigorating."
Something cold slid through my stomach. "It was."
"I trust your walks remain... safe?"
"Perfectly safe."
"I'm glad to hear it." Another bow. "Shall I inform your attendants you'll require assistance dressing? The morning meal begins soon."
"That won't be necessary."
"As you wish."
He left. The wolfhound glanced back once, its expression unreadable.
He knows, Azurene said.
He suspects. There's a difference.
Is there?
I changed clothes quickly, shoving the commoner wrappings deep into my hiding spot. But the cold in my stomach remained.