Future Tense

"I'm coming for you, Violence."

Violet gasped and opened her eyes, her body still shaking with pleasure from the touch in her dreams. She hadn't dreamed about Xaden in a long time, and she'd thought perhaps it had been too long, that the memories had finally faded enough. She'd forgotten her father's laugh, and the way her mother had looked on the ground after she died, and which of Liam's cheeks had that dimple when he smiled. Surely she'd forgotten the precise way Xaden's hands rested on her hip bones, or the way he purred in concentration when he went down on her, or the pattern of golden flecks-

Thinking about it, though, she hadn't seen his eyes in the dream. It had been dark and she had been thoroughly distracted, so it hadn't seemed odd at the time. From what she could remember seeing, Xaden looked the same as he had the last time she took him to bed, and his ferocity had felt familiar too. She tried to picture his eyes, the way they'd looked up close when she stared at them, and she couldn't quite.

She told herself that at least it wasn't a return to the nightmares she'd had for the first years, finding his body or worse. At least it had been a good dream.

That thought didn't do anything to stop the tears, though, at the realization she'd lost something of him without realizing it was gone. It had been ten years and his absence still felt fresh. Violet laid in the bed they'd shared; Bodhi had told her when they returned to Aretia that the room was hers as long as she wanted it, and she'd never seriously considered moving into another one.

The pre-dawn light was grey and dull through the clouds, and Violet lay and watched it for an hour. It was coming for her, inevitable as morning always was, and when the sunlight finally touched the edge of the bed, she got up and retreated into the mindless preparation for the day.

Violet would have preferred knowing she had a busy day ahead of her working with Bodhi and the Assembly, or babysitting Brennan and Cal's little boy, or even blowing wyverns out of the sky with lightning, but it was not to be: it had been almost a year since the the last time she'd seen a wyvern. The Assembly was waiting for word from Navarre now that Halden's mourning period was completed, and they didn't want to commit to anything until they knew what the new king had planned. Cal was needed at Cliffsbane as they prepared to finally re-establish the school, and Brennan could finally be spared in Tyrrendor so Bodhi had nearly thrown him out to make sure their little family stayed together.

Thinking about Brennan and Cal's handfasting made her smile and twisted her stomach at the same time. It had felt so good to celebrate anything when it happened, and Violet knew how much her brother had sacrificed for the rebellion and for the continent. He deserved happiness and she was glad to see him get it.

That didn't stop the envy from weighing her down on her worst days. Like today, apparently.

"You should not let anything weigh you down, Silver One. Let's get you into the air."

Violet smiled at Tairn's suggestion. He'd never stopped treating her like a child in some ways, even after she'd grown into the self-confidence he'd always known she deserved. As she got older, though, Violet appreciated it more. She liked knowing that there was still someone who wanted to care for her like that.

Dressed in her leathers, Violet made her way through the kitchens, grabbing a warm pasty to eat for breakfast as she walked up to the dragons' field. She could see her breath as she walked, but there were patches of grass starting to appear. Violet had lived in Aretia long enough now to know the seasons in her bones, and not just because the seasons changing made sure she felt the ghost of every time she'd dislocated her knees. It was the longest she'd lived anywhere.

To her surprise, Sgaeyl was with Tairn as he approached. When his wings flared in preparation to land, Sgaeyl circled back.

"I haven't seen her in months. Is everything okay?" she asked as she climbed up and began strapping herself into the well-worn saddle.

"It is a difficult time of year for all of us," Tairn answered, circumspect as always about his mate's privacy. Violet wondered sometimes if it was painful for Sgaeyl to see her in the same way that seeing gleaming navy scales always made Violet think of Xaden. The thought made her feel less alone as she kept her private vigil from the longest night until the break of spring, marking the weeks they'd both lost to grief when Xaden died.

Tairn was as good as his word, taking Violet so high she almost forgot how to breathe. They flew out toward the cliffs, the same place he always took her when she needed to lose herself.

A stretch of dead earth waited, a desert only two years old. This was the closest the venin had gotten to Aretia, and it was the first place they'd noticed the change in the venin strategy. At the time, Violet had expected to die here, perhaps to finally see Xaden again. The venin had developed magic that seemed capable of turning the wards inside-out, killing any living thing that got in their reach- human, gryphon and dragon alike.

Instead, their dark magic had collapsed. Tairn found the opening they needed, and Violet had destroyed the sage leading the attack. The venin who survived had retreated more chaotically than anything they'd seen before. Violet shook the memories out of her head, focusing instead on letting Tairn's power flood in through her Archives and wash away her complicated thoughts.

Bolt after bolt of lightning crashed into the ground. The venin had drained it thoroughly to power their abandoned magics, and she knew it would never recover. That made it the perfect place for Violet to push herself to the limits of her control and Tairn's power, and Violet didn't stop until she felt the first ache of approaching burnout.

She laid her hands on the scales of Tairn's neck, just past the edge of the saddle.

"Better?"

"You always know what I need." Violet stretched and adjusted her flight goggles, trying to clear out some of the fog that had gathered inside the lenses. As she cleaned them, she happened to glance at the ground near where she'd been striking, noticing something she hadn't expected.

"Tairn?"

"Yes, Silver One?"

"Is that scilla?"

When Tairn dove closer, she saw that yes, it was a tiny patch of the purple spring flower. Probably no more than two or three plants. Scilla was fairly common near the cliffs, and Violet wouldn't have thought much about it if not for the fact that it was growing on drained earth.

"How is that possible?" she asked, but Tairn seemed just as surprised as she was.

With that strange sight hanging over them, the flight back was quiet. Violet was skimming through her mental catalog of all the reports and treatises she'd read on venin magic, but she'd never heard of anything like that.

In acknowledgement of her aches, Tairn landed in the courtyard for Violet to dismount. Despite the late winter chill, Violet was sweating under her leathers when she walked back into Riorson House. Riding the edge of burnout will do that to a person. Violet immediately started toward the library, wanting to double-check a few references.

The path took her past Bodhi's office. She was sufficiently lost in her thoughts that normally she wouldn't have noticed that he was speaking with someone in a Navarran military uniform, except for the fact that she heard her name.

"You cannot include Violet Sorrengail in treaty negotiations," Bodhi was saying, and she realized he must be mad because he only got that clipped tone that reminded her of Xaden when he was very mad. "She is a person, not a tax or a land concession."

"Of course we wouldn't expect you to agree without consulting with her," a woman's voice answered. Violet couldn't place it, but it had been years since she'd cared about Navarran military structure and she preferred it that way.

"With all due respect," Bodhi said in the tone that meant none at all, "Captain Ashton, I understand Halden's interest in reabsorbing Tyrrendor-"

"You should refer to him as King Halden," she corrected him. Her precise tone made Violet's skin crawl. "And he is simply requesting that Sorrengail-"

"General Sorrengail," Bodhi corrected her, and Violet smiled just a little. She wasn't officially a general, but Bodhi had always had a habit of 'promoting' people mid-argument just to make a point.

"He is requesting that General Sorrengail consider his offer as a part of the entire negotiation." The woman was grinding her teeth so hard Violet could practically hear it from the hall.

She sighed heavily and stepped up to the doorway, deciding to save Bodhi from the fresh shipment of Navarran nonsense.

"Did I hear you call for me, Archduke Durran?" They never bothered with the titles among themselves, but it was obvious Captain Ashton needed to be reminded who she was talking to.

"Not exactly, but I'm glad you're here. You can speak for yourself." Bodhi relaxed just a fraction as she walked into the room. "It seems the Crown is interested in you." Ashton looked familiar, but Violet couldn't place her; they looked of an age to have been at Basgiath at the same time, though.

Violet raised an eyebrow in the dismissive way she'd learned from Xaden, and listened as Captain Ashton repeated the request: King Halden had suggested that a marriage might help reduce the tensions between Tyrrendor and Navarre, and hoped that Violet would consider returning to Navarre to discuss the proposal.

Captain Ashton's eyes widened in surprise when Violet laughed in her face. "If Halden wants me to consider anything he has to say, he can say it to me himself."

"Thank you for the clarification, General Sorrengail," Bodhi added. "You're dismissed."

"Any time." Violet turned on her heel and walked away as fast as she could without feeling like she was running. How dare he, when she'd just woken up from- Not that there was any way the King of Navarre could possibly know about the dream she had had this morning.

Violet knew it was an irrational and unfair reaction. She sighed as she entered the Riorson House library, feeling the anger drain from her body along with the adrenaline. Walking along the perimeter of the library, she trailed her fingers over the spines of the books. When she came to the books they had that talked about the Barrens or the way venin magic worked, she didn't actually take them off the shelves.

She knew them inside-out and backwards. There was nothing in them that would explain the flower she'd seen growing this morning.

Sometimes it seemed like the only thing she missed about Navarre was the Archives. Would there be something there that might explain it? It felt like a lifetime since Jesinia had looked for Fables of the Barrens for her. Perhaps there were more now that they were studying as well as fighting the venin, or perhaps there were older works after all, things that had been restricted when history was rewritten but still existed somewhere.

Violet had returned to Navarre any number of times, most recently for Jesinia and Sawyer's wedding, but never to the Archives. There was a pang of nostalgia as she thought about it.

She sat down at the table she'd spent all that time at with Dain, translating Warrick's journal, and it hit her suddenly how many of the people she knew had returned to Navarre once it was clear they were welcome. Dain himself had been one of the first, noting that having someone in Navarre who understood what Tyrrendor prioritized would be helpful. Jesinia had said her place was in the Archives, and Sawyer had followed her not long after, and recently Rhiannon and even Mira.

Aside from the marked ones, the only other person Violet knew well was Ridoc, and Archduchess Ridoc had made it clear he wasn't going anywhere except where Bodhi was.

Violet pulled down one of her own collections of notes and opened to a fresh page, trying to put down everything that could be relevant from what she'd seen that morning. She noted down the properties of scilla that she was aware of, in case there was something about that plant in particular that made the difference.

She was sketching- doodling, really, but trying to get it down in case she'd mis-identified the plant- when there was a knock on the library door.

Nobody bothered to knock in here.

Violet looked up, confused, and watched the figure in the doorway pull back the hood of his cloak.

"Hal?" She wondered if she'd fallen asleep and was dreaming about her second ex in less than a day, but when Halden stepped into the magelight it was more obvious he was real. He was no longer twenty any more than she was seventeen, and he wore the lines on his face of someone who'd been paying a lot of attention for the last decade. His hair was long enough to be pulled back, with flashes of gray picked out among the brown at the temples.

His eyes were the same green, shining as he looked at her.

"Hello, Violet." He was taking in the space as he crossed the room, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth.

"Why are you here?" She tried to school her face into the calm she'd managed with Ashton, but face to face with Halden it was harder.

He pulled out the chair across the table from hers and sat down. "I was told that if I wanted your opinion on something, I should ask you myself."

"No, I mean why are you here? You're supposed to be in Calldyr, isn't that why Ashton's annoying the crap out of Bod- Archduke Durran?"

Halden snorted softly. "Captain Ashton is very good at certain kinds of negotiation, but I wanted to see how Tyrrendor- and you- are doing for myself. I'd intended to surprise the Archduke and the Assembly at the negotiating table tomorrow."

"I hope you don't expect me to lie to him, even by omission," Violet narrowed her eyes.

He shook his head and laid his hands on the table. "When Ashton told me what you said, I decided talking to you was worth more than whatever advantage surprise might get me."

This felt uncomfortably like politics, and Bodhi and Brennan had been shielding her from politics for the last decade. Her patience had died with Xaden. She didn't play nice, and she didn't know when to stop, and she was always happier not having to be in the room. Or at most, standing behind Bodhi and looking imposing and reckless, rather than talking.

“Well. If you want to talk to me, here I am.” That was obvious enough that it was probably safe.

“Here you are,” he said softly. “It’s been a long time, Violet.”

So long that the girl she had been then felt like an entirely different person. Who had she been, before Xaden? Usually when she thought about after Xaden she meant his death, not after Parapet. But there had been a before Xaden, a before Parapet, and there had been a time when the man in front of her was young and reckless and she had tried desperately not to fall for him.

If she let herself admit it, there had even been a time before that, when they had been children together. When she was ten and he was almost fourteen, not as close to grown-up as Mira but sometimes he would deign to play with them if Alic and Cam caught him in a good mood.

“Seems like forever,” she managed to say. That was the other thing; everyone here was used to her drifting into her thoughts and knew how to bring her back again. Focus, Violet.

“Like forever and no time at all.”

She didn’t quite know what to say to that. “That’s what everything feels like these days,” she said. “Brennan told me it was just what getting older was like.”

“Your brother - is he here?”

Violet shook her head. “He’s in Poromiel with Cal. His husband.” It occurred to her that maybe he didn’t know that Brennan was married at all, much less to a flier. Was that safe for Halden to know? She wasn’t sure.

Halden didn’t look surprised, so maybe he did know. “Pity. It would’ve been nice to see him again.”

“I’ll tell him you asked after him in my next letter.”

“Thank you.”

Silence again, and Violet struggled to force her thoughts into coherence. “Captain Ashton said you wanted…” It seemed absurd, saying it out loud.

“Ah. Hm. Yes, I thought - well, it’s been a while since -” He groaned, buried his head in his hands.

Violet fought back the urge to laugh. It reminded her of nothing more than when he’d first tried to ask her out.

"The subject of marriage has been brought up to me endlessly, particularly since my father walked with Malek. Every choice is a political choice, a potential alliance, and I've never expected to marry for love." He paused.

"That was why we were never serious," Violet agreed, putting the old ache out in plain view. "Your father didn't want you to marry a Scribe you already knew when there were potential allies he needed."

"But now you have the advantage of me." Halden reached out toward her. "You are recognized as a hero of the war and the rider who won the Battle of the Cliffs single-handedly. You are an obvious representative of Tyrrendor and unmarried-"

"Widowed," Violet corrected.

Halden's eyes widened. "I didn't realize. I didn't think it was allowed before…"

"It wasn't," Violet clarified, "but by Tyrrish custom we were." She wasn't about to explain Tyrrish scarification or handfasting customs, but fortunately Halden didn't ask.

"I apologize. Even so, none of that is the important part, just what makes my advisors happy."

"I can't imagine what's left to be the important part, then."

"You are," Halden said. "What I mean is that you would be an excellent queen. You're brilliant, you have allies not just here in Tyrrendor but in Poromiel as well, and you would never hold back from telling me when I'm being an idiot."

Violet did let herself laugh at that. "I have quite a bit more experience at that since the last time I had the opportunity."

"See? You're perfect." He smiled at her, and it looked surprisingly genuine. "I could do so much worse than marry a friend. I wouldn't ask you to be more than that if you don't want it."

"I will consider your offer," she said, surprising herself at least as much as Halden. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to let the Archduke know you're here."

“Of course. If you could tell him - I don’t want a fuss? My father always liked to be reminded how important he was everywhere he went, and. Well. I came here clutched in a dragon’s talon, hoping she wouldn’t forget and drop me.”

Violet struggled mightily, but it was late and she was tired and the laughter just burst out of her. “Clutched… in her talon… oh gods, Hal.” It took what felt like a ridiculous amount of time to stop laughing again, but he didn’t look upset.

“I am a most dignified king, I assure you,” he said with mock seriousness. “Ask anybody. Except that dragon.”

“When I first bonded Tairn, I wanted to ride properly so badly. We’re called riders after all! And of course I couldn’t even mount in the regular way, I’m too short. So he’s just chosen me, and we’re going to the flight field, and I fall off. He catches me. I spend months trying to get strong enough to hold on, ignoring the fact that I’m literally incapable because of how my joints work. And every time I fell off, he caught me. So… yeah, dragon talons aren’t comfortable. I can’t imagine being held like that all the way from Calldyr to Aretia, Hal.”

“It’s faster than horseback, I’ll give it that.”

“More discreet, too.” Violet pushed the laughter down where it threatened to bubble up again. “Would you mind waiting here? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nodded acknowledgement, and she made sure the library door was completely closed before she let the laughter out again. “Tairn,” she managed to gasp out, “Can you please ask Cuir if Bodhi’s still in his office?”

Bodhi was, and Violet hurried over, pausing in the doorway to make sure Ashton was gone.

“Just me,” he said with a tired smile.

“Bodhi,” she said, dropping into a chair opposite, “Halden is here.”

He blinked at her. “Halden, as in the king of Navarre?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s here. Like. In Aretia.”

“Like in the library.”

"How did he even get here? There were only riders." Then Bodhi frowned, understanding. "He was looking for you."

"I did tell Ashton that he should talk to me, in fairness."

"Do we need to be fair to him?"

"Halden isn't his father. We had a real, actual conversation, and he knows he's given up any advantage he'd have by surprising you tomorrow to do it. I think he's being genuine."

"And his offer?"

"He thinks I'd be good at being Queen," Violet had a hard time saying it with a straight face, even if it had almost made sense when Halden explained it. "Because I know a lot of people on all sides, and Dunne knows Navarre needs more people in leadership who listen."

"You're considering it." He sounded resigned, and so tired.

"I'm considering it. Tyrrendor is my home, Bodhi, but I'm just haunting it since the war ended. I need to do something differently, even if I'm only visiting Calldyr and Basgiath for six months and then coming back."

"I can't help feeling like everyone is leaving," he admitted. "I know that isn't true, but every time I look around someone is missing."

"Imogen and Garrick will be back tomorrow for the negotiations," Violet pointed out, "and Sloane said she and Cam will be back when Halden is settled in. If I go, that might happen faster."

"Your arguments are sound as always, but that doesn't mean I won't miss my sister."

"If you call me your sister in public tomorrow, they won't know who you're talking about. I had to explain to Halden that I'm a widow, apparently nobody in Navarre realized it."

"I'd almost forgotten how formal Navarre is about family lines."

"And everything else," Ridoc added as he came in and draped himself over Bodhi's shoulders like a cloak. "Do I have to bribe you to get you to come to dinner, lover?"

“We just have this one thing to sort out before he’s all yours, Ridoc,” Violet told him. “He says he doesn’t want a fuss made over him, which at least means we probably don’t have to throw together something appropriate for the king with no warning at the end of March.”

“Why would we need to do that, anyway?” Ridoc asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Because he’s here,” Bodhi sighed. “I still don’t understand how he got here; most of the passes into Tyrrendor are closed and the ones that aren’t wouldn’t be safe for more than a few -”

Violet started giggling.

"I'm guessing that means you already know?"

She nodded.

“Are - you going to tell us?” Ridoc asked.

“Yes,” she managed, choking down the laughter that threatened to overwhelm her again. “It’s just - he came with the dragons. One of them…” she trailed off into another fit of giggles while they stared at her. “One of them carried him,” and she held up one hand in an imitation of dragon talons.

“In their talons?”

Nod.

“All the way from Calldyr?”

Another nod.

“In March?”

Ridoc started laughing too, though he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the hilarity of the image itself or the fact that Violet clearly couldn’t stop laughing about it.

"Maybe we have a chance with the new king of Navarre after all." Bodhi stood, looking at least a little less stressed. "Violet, come eat with us? If I'm supposed to sell you to Halden I want to make sure I'm requiring they provide you everything you want."

"You're selling Violet to the prince of Navarre?!" Ridoc demanded in mock outrage. "That's so unfair. I think I wrote stories about my father selling me to the prince of Navarre when I was fourteen, and it never happened to me."

"You ran away and married me," Bodhi wrapped an arm around him. "Isn't that enough?"

"Mmm, I guess I can't complain," he leaned into his husband.

"Maybe tomorrow I'll press the Navarrans to let me upgrade you to queen."

“Yes,” Violet stood up and rolled her shoulders. “And he’s selling me to the king of Navarre, Ridoc. I was into the prince when I was seventeen, but that was a long time ago.”

As it turned out, the negotiations with Navarre were the easy part. The negotiations with the dragons were considerably more complicated.

"Silver One, if you're lonely, there are any number of riders here."

“Not the point, Tairn. I’m not looking for a romantic partner, I’m…” Violet sighed. “It’s more like changing jobs. We’re being posted to Calldyr.”

“I thought handfasting for humans was like mating for dragons,” Andarna said, puzzled. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“It can be,” Violet told her. “But not always. When a human is in charge, like the king, he might choose a partner because it’s a good political match, because their partner represents somewhere the king wants to develop a closer relationship to. That’s why Xaden was betrothed to Kiralair’s flier before he met Sgaeyl.”

"Political matches," Tairn scoffed, and Violet almost laughed because she knew dragons had their share of politics.

"On the subject of posting to Calldyr, do you know if Codagh is still there?" she asks, needling him just a little. "I'm wondering whether any other dragons would have theories about the scilla."

"Scilla? Like the flower?" Andarna asked, and she realized Tairn must not have brought it up. She couldn't be too upset about it, though. She'd forgotten to mention it to anyone either, or there has never been a good time, or… She still didn't know what to think of it.

"Codagh has returned to the Vale. I asked Gleann earlier."

"That means Melgren-"

"I didn't press for details," Tairn didn't care in the slightest about Codagh's rider now that the war was over, but it was strange to think about Melgren being gone. He wasn't that much older than Violet's mother, and Lilith Sorrengail was in his orbit all of her adult life. His youngest was in Brennan's year so Violet never been close to his kids, and he never felt like an uncle, not the way it was with Markham or even Dain's father. Still, it was as disorienting as learning of Tauri's death had been.

Violet felt like she had stopped being a child more than a decade ago when her father died, but she hadn't realized growing older meant watching that childhood cease to exist piece by piece.

She turned her focus to Andarna. "Out in the barren field where the venin attacked, Tairn and I spotted a scilla plant growing. It wasn't large but I didn't think that was possible."

"That's exciting!" Andarna made a happy chirp out loud. "I want to see!"

"Before we leave we should inspect it further," Tairn agreed.

"We might have missed something," Violet acknowledged. "Once we're in Navarre I'll be able to go to Basgiath and visit the Archives, likely even to access the restricted books. Maybe there's still something there that will point us in a direction."

“Perhaps I will return to the Vale as well,” Sgaeyl said. Violet froze, not knowing how to react. It was normal for dragons without riders to live in the Vale, and while all the dragons who lived here had participated in the Battle of Basgiath and understood Sgaeyl’s loss, that wouldn’t necessarily be the case in Calldyr. Maybe it was just that the idea of being in Calldyr was uncomfortable for Sgaeyl. That was probably it.

And even if it wasn’t, they’d mourned him for ten years. If she was ready for a new rider, then that was fine. It would be strange, but they would figure it out.

“Then I’ll have a solid reason to regularly visit the Archives,” Violet told her. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Tairn was watching Sgaeyl, and Violet could tell the two of them were speaking and felt the need to give them their privacy even if she couldn't hear the conversation. "We can take you out to the barren cliff tomorrow, Andarna. I should get back to Riorson House."

She turned her head, looking up. “Glane and Chradh are coming back!” Violet followed her gaze and saw the distant shapes of two dragons approaching.

Imogen and Garrick had been gone all winter helping a cousin of Garrick’s in a remote corner of Tyrrendor. It was good that they were returning now, assuaging some of the guilt she was feeling about leaving Bodhi.

Even though there was plenty of room on the field even with Violet’s three dragons there, Glane landed first and Chradh waited until she was solidly on the ground before he came in, giving her a wide berth. Are they fighting? Violet wondered. Chradh was overwhelmingly good-natured and she’d never known him to fight with anybody, though Glane could be short-tempered and snappish as her rider. Maybe that was it.

Glane crouched, sliding into a position that was closer to how Tairn let Violet dismount than the way Garrick was jumping to the ground. Was Imogen hurt? Violet hurried forward, anxious, as Imogen slipped off and said something to her dragon, shaking her head and laughing. She looked fine, unfastening her flight jacket. Winter in the middle of nowhere must have been good for her, she’d put on some weight around her middle…

Suddenly everything clicked into place. Glane was being protective, careful with her rider, not because she was injured but because she was pregnant.

Violet realized Imogen must have realized she was looking, because she was re-fastening the lower half of her flight jacket. She and Garrick had been trying for a while, but Imogen was very private about it most of the time.

"Welcome back!" Violet called to them, hoping she could make it not be weird. She just had to act normal until Imogen told her. Hopefully soon.

“I hope you weren’t waiting out here in the cold for us,” Imogen said as they approached.

“No, I was talking to the dragons,” Violet replied. “How was your adventure? The middle of nowhere looks like it was good to you.”

“Well, I’m used to being surrounded by loud, opinionated people, and there were fewer of them plus I could pick them up and make them do things if I needed to.”

“Assembly meetings would go a lot more smoothly if we could just pick Ulices up and make him do what we wanted him to,” Violet laughed. “Garrick, maybe you could try that.”

“No thank you, Ulices, please put your listening ears on now,” Garrick said in the sort of cheerful, upbeat voice used with small children, then dropped to his normal timbre and cadence. “It might help.”

“You should keep it in mind. I wanted to warn you before we got down into the chaos of it all - King Halden is here with a handful of riders and there’ll be an Assembly meeting to discuss the proposal to - how did Bodhi put it - reintegrate Tyrrendor.”

“Do you suppose I could tell them that I’m exhausted after all the travel and go take a nap instead?” Imogen asked, looking up at Garrick.

“Oh, no, if I have to listen to this bullshit, so do you,” he said. “Unless - are you actually tired? It was a long flight.”

“I’m fine, stop fussing,” she grumbled. “Everyone will know something’s up if you’re fussing over me.”

"Is something up?" Violet tried. She definitely wanted to tell them about the proposal before the meeting, but she didn't want to run roughshod over anything Imogen wanted to share first.

“You figured it out before I even dismounted, because of Glane’s nonsense,” Imogen retorted. “I saw it on your face. I appreciate you trying, though.”

“If you’re far enough along that Glane’s fussing over you, that seems like a good sign, right?”

Imogen nodded. “She says that this one is strong and healthy and will hatch.” She made a face. “I keep explaining that humans don’t lay eggs, but she can’t be bothered to remember the correct language.”

“Congratulations!” Violet hugged her, and Imogen put up with it for several entire seconds before pulling away, unfastening her jacket again. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks. I’m glad we weren’t supposed to come back any earlier, because I don’t know that I could’ve made the flight.” She shook her head as they started down the path toward Aretia. “It’s only been the last few days that I’ve been upright and functional during daylight hours.”

"Upright and functional is all the Assembly can ask for, right?" Violet hesitated. "There's a specific part of the negotiations I wanted to warn you about, aside from the general bullshit. Halden wants a diplomatic marriage."

"More like he needs to make up for Aaric beating him to it," Garrick grinned. "Whatever, good for him, why is it our problem?"

"He wants a diplomatic marriage to me," she specified, earning confused looks from both of them for a minute.

"And you're… okay with that." Imogen recovered first.

“We talked last night, and, well, I kind of agree with him? He needs someone who’ll call him on his bullshit, which - with fucking pleasure, yes. Someone he can trust. And it doesn’t hurt that I’m very familiar with Tyrrish priorities and can be a voice for them in Calldyr. And - I love you all, and I love it here, this is my home, but I’m not doing anything now that the war’s over. There’s nothing I can do here that someone else can't do better. He’s got problems that I’m uniquely qualified to solve.”

“You should write Cordella a long letter and tell her all about the crown you’re going to get,” Imogen said, eyes sparkling with malice. “But seriously, Vi - are you sure about this? If you said you were going to be the Tyrrish ambassador to Calldyr, that sounds entirely reasonable, I’m on board, but - presumably you’ll be expected to sleep in his bed and bear his children? Last time I checked you twitched any time someone outside your extended family touched you.”

“I’m definitely going to have to bring Tyrrish definitions of family into greater Navarre. It’s so much easier explaining connections. Halden didn’t even realize I was a widow, can you imagine? But he’s not - he’s not a stranger, Im. We’ve known each other since we were kids, we dated as teenagers, he’s like - if the Apostasy hadn’t happened, you and Bodhi would probably be like Hal and I. I haven’t seen him in the past decade, but when I saw him last night he felt like a friend.”

"It sounds… Less terrible like that," Garrick agreed slowly. "Does he know that if he hurts you Tairn will eat him?"

“If he doesn’t, he will. Also that Tyrrendor will declare war, according to Ridoc.”

"But he'll be eaten, so I don't think he'll be in a position to worry about it." Another thought occurred to him. "And then Aaric would have to be king, and Sloane would bring him back just to kill him again, probably."

“No doubt. I’m about as emotionally safe as it’s possible for me to be.”

“Sloane will also be very invested in your future children,” Imogen pointed out. “As in, how fast you’re going to have them.”

“If she was so uninterested in the monarchy, maybe she shouldn’t have married a prince,” Violet muttered. “Third in line is not very far back when second isn’t married.”

“Mm-hm, you definitely have a lot of room telling Sloane about how much of a choice falling in love is,” Imogen smirked. “Absolutely you chose to fall in love with Xaden.” Garrick opened the door of Riorson House and they entered the foyer, shrugging out of their flight jackets in near-unison.

Violet laughed. Imogen was the only one who never hesitated to say Xaden’s name, much less tease her about their relationship. She loved her people faults and all, and therefore refused to let their faults be forgotten after death. “We certainly chose each other, over and over again,” she said. “Whether I picked him in the first place is kind of irrelevant after a while.”

“Make sure you have a witness when you tell her she should’ve dumped him if she didn’t want to be a princess. I want a survivor to tell me all about it.”

“Like she could take me down,” Violet snorted.

“Not before you could poison her coffee, certainly.”

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Just in time for you to leave, so you can enjoy my sparkling wit in a very small dose and don’t get tired of my constantly poking you.”

“You’ve been poking me for a decade and I’m not tired of you yet.”

“And here I thought you only poked me,” Garrick grumbled.

“You’re the only one I use the special poking stick with, Tavis. Don’t get jealous of my ongoing flirtation with Violet.”

“This is just a flirtation to you? And I thought you loved me.”

“What have I told you about the l-word?”

“Not in public,” Violet sighed.

Bodhi stuck his head out of his office. “I thought I heard your voice! Welcome back, I missed you, did Violet tell you about the impending everything?”

"I'm not sure if we got everything, but we definitely talked about the impending a lot," Garrick nodded. "We're going to go get cleaned up. Do we have an hour?"

"If you want an hour, you've got an hour. I'll have Ridoc bring out the parade of adorable children." He watched them go from the doorway of his office. "What about you, Violet? Do you want to be there while I exchange trade agreements for your hand in marriage?"

"Probably I should be there to show I'm okay with it and you're not secretly trying to get rid of me behind my back."

"Are you worried the Assembly will vote against it? I'm confident that captain I was talking to yesterday would be in favor of trading you against your will."

“I never know how the Assembly is going to react to a reasonable idea. Fortunately Imogen and Garrick came back with some new tools to handle them.”

"Pitchforks? Cattle prods?"

“Better. Condescension.”

Bodhi nodded, impressed. "Turning their own weapons against them. That just might work. Remind me to promote them before the meeting. Now if you'll excuse me, Violet, I need to find my husband and our children, and hopefully make sure the children are covered in something nice and sticky before setting them loose on the delegation from Navarre."

The negotiations went surprisingly smoothly, largely because Halden seemed quite willing to demonstrate how much he valued Violet and perhaps also because the children had gotten so much grape jam on Captain Ashton that she'd stormed out to change her uniform. The other two riders that had come representing Navarre seemed more inclined to stay out of the king's way unless he asked them questions.

Bodhi offered Halden a horse and a troop of infantry to escort him back to Calldyr, but Halden deferred, saying he needed to be back shortly.

"How about one of the grain baskets from the pantry? It would probably be a more comfortable ride," Violet suggested.

"If they're going to refuse to let a rider near the throne, this should be a tradition for new kings," Tairn grumbled. "They should understand who keeps them safe."

"Maybe we could attach a grain basket to the saddle, Tairn. It could be a wedding gift from you."

She didn't have to be able to see him to feel the skepticism wafting off of him, but after a moment he replied. "For you, Silver One, I would oblige."

“That sounds much more comfortable than how I got here,” Halden admitted ruefully, running a hand through his hair and knocking the slim circlet askew.

Violet went up on her toes and straightened it without stopping to think about what she was doing. Halden smiled at her in a pleased sort of way, which at least suggested he wasn’t upset by her fussing. “I promise I only forget that I’m wearing it two or three times a day,” he said. “My valet keeps threatening to make me wear the godsawful thing my father always did if I keep it up.”

“Ugh, that thing must weigh five pounds. It’s a wonder your father didn’t have neck problems.”

“Maybe that’s why he was such an asshole,” Halden grinned. “I always thought it was my brothers who were the perpetual pain in his neck.”

Violet laughed. “I’m sure you never did anything you weren’t supposed to and didn’t cause a bit of worry a day in your life.”

“You’ve known me since we were children, so you know that’s true.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she laughed harder. “I was always the good kid, and I never stooped to encouraging my brothers to do things they weren’t supposed to either.”

“Oh, certainly not. Never. That’s why there are no scars on your chin from the time you convinced Alic and Cam to toboggan down the stairs.”

It was Halden’s turn to laugh now. “Gods, you remember that? Cam doesn’t, and please don’t remind him.”

“I’m not surprised; he did hit his head pretty hard.”

Bodhi cleared his throat and Violet jolted. She hadn’t lost track of other people being in the room since… well. Since Xaden. And here she was, forgetting about her surroundings with the King of Navarre, which seemed reckless at best. He hadn’t stopped her or shut her down, though.

“If we’re done here, do you want to meet Tairn and Andarna?”

“I would love that! I don’t get to meet a lot of dragons, for some reason.”

She took his arm to lead him out of the room. The two riders started to follow, and he shook his head at them before turning back to her.

“Can’t imagine why. Possibly their tendency to set non-riders on fire first and ask questions later?”

“Might be that. People are oddly protective of my safety.”

“Mine too, at least outside battle.” Violet stopped in the hallway, stepping back to look at him. “I could ask them to come down to the courtyard and they would, but… it would be more respectful if you were willing to climb up to the flight field.”

“Then I’ll do that. I want to make a good impression, if it’s possible.”

"We'll be there in a few moments if you want to make a dramatic entrance."

Tairn didn't answer but Andarna's energy danced around like a puppy. She might have grown through draconic adolescence and tried to imitate her father's demeanor, but sometimes it was definitely still clear that Andarna was young and Violet loved that about her.

Halden was quiet as they approached, pausing at the edge of the field itself. "Is there anything else I should know? The Infantry's lessons on dragons mostly came down to don't look them in the eyes and stay out of their way, but I definitely learned they had preferences later. Codagh and some of the others stationed in Calldyr can be very opinionated."

Violet heard Tairn scoff at that.

"Andarna is very non-traditional, so she may not act like you'd expect. And Tairn… he seems very intimidating and dangerous, and he is, but he's also not going to hurt you unless you're a threat to me."

Halden nodded, and then hesitated for a moment. He removed the circlet and stashed it inside his cloak. "I want to meet them as your friend, not as the king."

“They don’t care much about human politics,” Violet admitted. “But I appreciate the thought.”

They caught sight of the approaching dragons, and Halden whistled as Tairn angled to land. “By the gods, he’s massive. He’s got to be nearly as big as Codagh, right? Or is he bigger?”

“I haven’t seen Codagh in years, but they were pretty close the last time I did.”

Tairn and Andarna landed together, creating enough wind that Violet was glad Halden had taken off his crown. “Tairn, Andarna, this is Halden. My - friend. Hal, this is Tairn and that’s Andarna.”

“He’s not very big, is he?” Andarna asked, tilting her head at him. “Chradh’s rider is much bigger.”

“Garrick is taller than everyone, my love. That’s like saying you’re not very big because Tairn is bigger.” Xaden was also taller than Halden, who was just about six feet, still a head taller than Violet.

“I’m bigger than Glane,” Andarna protested. “And I’m only ten.” Dragons never really stopped growing, they just slowed down the older they got.

“And Halden is bigger than me,” Violet pointed out.

“Are you - talking to them?”

“To Andarna,” she told him. It had been ages since she’d been with people who weren’t riders or fliers around her dragons. “She thinks you’re not very big.”

“Compared to her, not at all,” he said easily. “I’m bigger than you, though.”

“That’s what I told her,” she laughed. “She was comparing you to Garrick.”

“Can you please tell her that Tyrrs are ridiculously tall and shouldn’t be used to compare to the rest of us?”

“She can hear you,” Violet smiled at him. “They don’t talk to anyone other than their bonded riders, and if you are going to talk to them, it’s best to be as respectful as possible.”

“How did he get to be in charge of Navarre if he’s not the eldest or the strongest?”

“Bodhi isn’t the eldest or the strongest, dear heart. Hal is the eldest son of the last king, that’s why he’s the king now.”

“He is the eldest of his den, then? And he rules his territory?”

“That’s - one way to put it, yes.”

“I suppose he’ll do as a mate for you, then.”

Violet swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and turned to Halden. “Andarna approves of you.”

Halden's face noticeably brightened, as if he'd been told his fiancee's family approved of him. Which, he supposed, one of them had. He wondered briefly if he was more afraid of Tairn or Mira.

"I'm honored," he managed, and bowed to her. Then he quickly considered and also bowed to Tairn. He wasn’t certain it would be offensive to bow to one and not the other, but it seemed there was no harm in being careful. He didn’t quite look up at Tairn's face- he was large enough that it was difficult to try. "I've been told you'll do me the great favor of carrying me back to Calldyr?"

Tairn chuffed. “I suppose he’s well-mannered enough, Silver One. He’s not terribly… fierce. Are you sure he’s strong enough to match you?”

“He’s being polite, Tairn. I promise he’s bullheaded enough when he needs to be.”

“If you’re certain. He’s hardly one I would have chosen for you.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever met a man who you’d think was good enough for me,Tairneanach.”

Tairn didn’t bother to answer that; they both knew she was right.

With her dragons' approval secured, the only thing left was packing and saying goodbye to Areia and her people. Violet spent an entire day drafting letters: to Brennan first, asking that he and Cal check the library at Cliffsbane for her, then to Mira, to Jesinia and Sawyer, to the handful of friends who might want to see her.

The last one was the hardest; Imogen had been joking when she suggested writing to Catriona, but the thought had lodged in Violet's mind. She knew what it was like to live among royalty in Calldyr, at least as a semi-feral child, but she knew almost nothing about being royalty. She had never had the chance to be… well, Ridoc was almost certainly more popular with the people of Aretia than she would have been, and he'd already given her his best advice the night before.

Outside of Halden and Cam, she was likely to be the best source of advice Violet would find. Cat had never been to Calldyr as far as Violet knew, but she doubted the woman would turn down the chance to advance Poromiel's alliances, even if it meant being unable to wield. A decade of working together meant almost nothing to six hundred years of war.

And of course Poromiel knew so much about the venin and the Barrens, information that, if they'd ever had it, Navarre had destroyed. Her cousin had literally written the book on venin.

Writing to her, asking her to come to Calldyr, was entirely sensible. It was also extremely difficult. While they had learned to respect each other, Violet had never truly forgotten the way they began.

Compared to that, packing was easy. Bodhi had insisted her room would remain hers, so it was just clothes and research notes and daggers.

The afternoon before they intended to leave, Violet and Tairn brought Andarna out to the barren cliff. Everything had been such a whirlwind since that morning that Violet half-expected to find out there was nothing there after all, but the scilla was still there, improbably growing from the grey earth.

"Let me down," she asked Tairn. He set down near the small patch of green and purple and Violet unstrapped from her saddle, sliding down to the ground. She stared down as she walked the handful of steps, trying to spot anything else unusual.

The scilla grew as strong as before, and she thought that there might be another blossom. Looking at the soil, she spotted something else.

Her narrow fingers wrapped around - well, it looked like a stone at first, but once she pulled it out of the dust she could see it wasn't a normal stone. It was hollowed out like a tube, shiny on the inside, and Violet wasn't sure she'd seen anything like it before.

She slipped the stone into the pocket of her coat before standing. Andarna was next to her.

"Ha! I knew it!"

“Knew what, dear heart?”

“You make the flowers grow.”

“What?”

Andarna nudged her arm. “Strike the sand. Over there, away from the flowers.”

Violet had enough control now to do as Andarna said, opening the Archive door a tiny bit and flinging a single bolt into the sand. “Now look!” Andarna bounced over to where the sand was still smoking.

The sand was strange, melted together with a shine like glass. And there, amidst the clumps of half-melted sand, was another stone tube.

“When a dragon puts fire into sand it makes glass,” Andarna said. “When you put magic into sand, it makes rocks, but if you put enough, maybe it makes flowers too? That looks like a flower stem.”

"Is that… I don't think that's how it works… is it?" The chain of logic didn't quite make sense to Violet, but the conclusion seemed as possible as anything. A lifetime ago, Felix has told her that her signet was pure power, and the dead land was space that had had all the power drawn out of it. But she'd been too busy fighting to experiment much with other options, and after Felix had been killed she hadn't found another teacher like him. She would have to see what she could find on the subject, or find somewhere to experiment. There were barren patches near Basgiath.

For now, though, there were other priorities for her time.

"Yes. It is time to pack your mate for the journey." Andarna's serious tone made Violet grin.

The act of saying goodbye to everyone nearly broke Violet’s resolve. How could she actually leave behind these people who had known Xaden, who had loved him, who had held her through her long mourning period? Imogen had forced her to eat, to bathe, to get up when she just wanted to stay in bed forever. Ridoc had made her laugh when she thought she’d never laugh again, and all of them had held her when she cried so many times. She was going to miss the orphans growing up, would miss Imogen’s baby being born, and how could she leave them when there was joy to be had after all the years of pain?

And she was leaving for what, exactly?

“For a new place to grow,” Tairn said softly. “This is their place, but all it holds for you are memories.”

That was enough to get her onto Tairn’s back.

The flight to Calldyr City was the longest she’d taken in quite a while; certainly the longest that didn’t have a battle waiting at the other end. She imagined that they must have looked like a strange riot coming in, the three dragons whose riders had accompanied the king, and then Andarna and Sgaeyl, riderless, and Tairn with Halden's basket suspended below.

"I remember when I carried you like that, Golden One," he commented. He hadn't used that nickname for her in years, for obvious reasons, but Violet got a rush of fondness from her regardless.

"I never needed a basket," she pointed out.

"Yes, your carrier was much more dignified."

Violet smiled with fondness as she slid down Tairn's leg and tried to rotate some of the stiffness out of her hips. Captain Ashton and one of the lieutenants were already helping Halden out of the basket.

"I can't decide if it would be more imposing for people to know you'd convinced a dragon to carry you or less once they saw how it was done," Ashton said.

"It should be impressive," the lieutenant agreed. "And yet…"

"And yet I feel only slightly more dignified than I did tripping over my father's old robes." Halden straightened his traveling clothes and looked for Violet.

“You can tell them that it happened and conveniently leave the details out,” she suggested.

“Yes, yes. I was carried home by the magnificent and noble companion of my lovely bride-to-be, and we’ll just stop before the part where it was in a literal basket of grain.”

"Was the basket of grain at least comfortable, my king?" she tried not to smile.

“Quite! I daresay everyone will be traveling that way next season.”

"Doubtful," Tairn added as he cut the ropes holding the basket free and took flight for the fields where the dragons posted to Calldyr settled.

“He still doesn’t like me, does he?”

“He’s hard to impress,” Violet said. “I don’t think he believes anyone is genuinely good enough for me.”

“Really? Even another rider?”

“Even his mate’s rider.”

Halden went quiet at that, and finally offered, "He didn't approve of your-- husband?"

“Our relationship was - complicated. We were so young, and all the - well, everything,” she gestured vaguely to encompass the revolution and the beginnings of the war, “it was a lot to deal with and we never got a chance to get truly settled together before. I lost him.” That never got easier to say; the best she could manage now was not bursting into tears immediately after.

He took her hands, and his face was complicated; she wondered what he knew and who had told him. When she didn't say anything more, he just nodded.

"Let's get you settled in, Violet. I don't know about you, but I definitely need a shower after my ride."

“That sounds glorious.”

"I was hoping you'd join me for dinner tonight with some of my council, and we can discuss what you would need here to make you comfortable? I was planning to put you in a room in our wing, since it… has plenty of space these days. You'll be near me as well as my brother and his wife, which should help make the transition a little easier."

Violet nodded. “Can we talk about what I’ll be expected to do? Because if it’s just me, I don’t need much, but you didn’t ask for me to come just for the dubious pleasure of my company.”

“Certainly. It’s been some time since Navarre had even a princess-consort, much less a queen; I daresay we can make up your duties to reflect whatever you have in mind. You’ll need a staff of two or three just to manage your calendar and your correspondence, even if you don’t do anything else, and I doubt you came all the way from Tyrrendor just to hang decoratively on my arm.” There was a challenge sparkling in Halden’s eyes.

Halden and Cam’s mother had been Tauri’s princess-consort; her job was to share his bed and bear his children, as Imogen had put it. Violet had never met her; she had died not long after Cam had been born, but there had been a painting of her on Tauri’s arm, holding baby Halden, and child-Violet had thought her the prettiest mother possible. Lilith Sorrengail’s appearance was most commonly described as striking, and it had not previously occurred to her that loveliness could be a particularly desirable feature in a mother. Mothers were brave and strong and fierce, elegant and proud. Sisters were pretty. But the princess-consort had been beautiful before anything else.

Violet hadn’t paid that much attention to the specifics of the negotiation, and she’d forgotten about the role of the royal consort. That wasn’t what Halden had asked for, though. He’d asked her to be his queen, and in Navarre, kings and queens ruled together, equally.

Halden walked her to the room she'd be staying in; the one that used to be his the last time they were here, if she remembered right, but it didn't look like a young man's room any longer. It was bright and airy, with color-stained glass decorating the windows and gold and mother-of-pearl inlays in the wood that she remembered admiring a lifetime ago. Had she told Halden that? Had he remembered it? Or was it just convenience that he placed her here?

The bed was canopied in something gauzy and pale and Violet immediately imagined herself pulling it down on top of her as she dropped into bed on a bad night, probably also staining the pale blue duvet or possibly the matching pale blue chair and dressing-bench as she pulled her boots off.

She realized something of it must have shown on her face when Halden gestured breezily. "We can have this redone for you, of course. Whatever furniture you prefer, and an office near mine. For now, you can let the staff know if you need anything immediately. I'll pick you up on the way to dinner, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, of course." She could probably find her way there by herself, but this way she couldn't lose track of time, either. Violet dropped her rucksack on the dressing bench as Halden continued on to his room, closing the door behind him.

The room felt delicate in a way that made Violet hesitant to set things down. All of the furniture was finely carved and lacquered or inlaid with stones or precious metals. The armoire was filled with an explosion of silks and satins. There was a valet stand near the armoire, but it looked more built for gowns than a flight jacket, so she settled for shaking out her Tyrrish dress uniform and hanging it there while she used a touch of lesser magic to remove the wrinkles.

When she did strip out of her leathers, Violet laid them on the dressing-bench with her flight goggles. She tried to pretend it didn't feel as temporary as the guest rooms at Cordyn or anywhere else she'd traveled. It would take time to feel familiar, even if she'd spent so much time here before.

The shower was enormous and the water was hot. She noted the soaking tub and the cedarwood benches; those would certainly be handy on bad days. Being able to sit would be nice even on the better days, if she was taking her time.

Tonight, though, she had an appointment, so she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in the ridiculous dressing robe that hung nearby while she braided her hair up and back in a slightly fancier style than she wore most of the time.

Just as she was finishing there was a knock on the door. Am I running that behind? she wondered as she crossed the room and cracked it open, prepared to tell the King of Navarre to wait.

"Violet?" Instead it was Sloane standing there, her arms crossed over her chest as she waited.

"Sloane!" She pulled the door open and wrapped Sloane in a hug. "Sorry, I just got out of the shower, I'm supposed to be dressing for dinner."

“You still have time,” Sloane assured her. “I thought you might want some help figuring out what to wear from a friend rather than palace staff. And I kind of wanted to see if…”

“If I’m here of my own volition?” Violet stepped aside to let the younger woman in. “Do you think Tairn would have brought me against my will?”

“No, of course not! I just - I wanted to make sure he told you what he was after before you came, just in case he decided to invite you first and explain things later.”

“Like maybe waiting to tell me he was actually the King of Navarre until I fell in love with him?”

“There is zero precedent for that in this family,” Sloane pointed out dryly. She opened the armoire and scowled at its contents. “I assume you’re as unimpressed with pastels as I am?”

“I was going to wear my dress uniform,” Violet said, pointing to where it was hanging.

“Alas, no. No uniforms at dinner unless it’s a full-fledged state function. Everyone is expected to dress like a regular person, if regular people wore fancy clothes to dinner.”

"If I'd known that, I would have brought other clothes with me."

"Spoken as if you have other clothes." Sloane didn't turn around. “I’d let you borrow something of mine except it would be ridiculously long on you.”

“We could pin it up,” Violet suggested.

“That’s not the only dimension that we don’t have in common.” Sloane plunged a hand into the armoire and pulled out a dress the color of new spring leaves. “Gods, did nobody think about what you look like?” She shoved it back.

“I haven’t actually been to the palace since I was… fourteen? I think? Only once after my mom was posted to Basgiath.”

“If we had more than half an hour, we could get something dyed for you, but as far as tonight, I think this is the best we’re going to manage.” Sloane shoved several gowns aside and pulled one out.

Violet eyed the sapphire dress doubtfully. “It’s… blue.”

“Navarran blue. Very symbolic of your new alliance, blah blah blah.”

“Right. I - should probably get used to things that are blue.” She glanced around the room.

“It is kind of a default color around here. My room is navy, which is almost black? Close enough, I guess.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about… I don’t know, existing in a navy blue room? I feel like a small grubby child.”

Sloane laughed. “I wish I knew where to find a small grubby child to turn loose in here. None of Bodhi’s kids snuck into your luggage, did they?”

"The twins tried to get in Halden's basket, but it was pretty noticeable when he went to climb in and it was already full." Violet explained what Halden’s basket was, and also described Captain Ashton versus the Sticky Children, as Sloane helped her into the dress. “This is too low-cut for my corset, so hopefully no one will try to murder me at dinner,” Violet mused, looking at herself in the mirror.

“Are you kidding? Your presence means the king is finally getting married; they’re more likely to throw you a parade.”

“I doubt I’m at the top of anybody’s list of desirable matches, though. Somebody might be upset.”

Sloane shook her head. “Seriously. Aaric said people have been trying to convince Hal to marry since he graduated Basgiath. Nobody’s going to care what your name is or where you’ve been living or what you represent. You’re a human woman of childbearing years, which means you’re perfect.” She rolled her eyes. “I was worried people would be mad about their prince marrying a marked one, but they were so happy that one of the princes was getting married, if I had the slightest interest in playing princess my life would be perfect. Trust me. Ask for anything; they will bend over backwards to get it for you.”

Violet took her hair down and re-braided it into something simpler, to balance the dress. "Why is that just as terrifying as the alternative?"

Tairn answered her thought. "It should not be, Silver One. You have more than earned their respect."

"In that case, I'm going to ask for trousers." Looking at herself in the mirror, Violet sighed. The woman there looked about ready to jump out of her skin, but at least the blue was dark enough to keep her from being compared to a corpse. "Do I look like a regular person?"

“You look nice. It’s a good color on you.”

“Thanks. It’s weird not to be in black.”

Sloane smiled. "You'll probably have to get used to it."

There was a knock at the door and both women looked up. Halden was there, and Violet had to do a double-take seeing Cam next to him. She'd known Aaric for so long now it was easy to forget that he had also been a prince of Navarre in another life. Would be again, if Halden had anything to say about it, but he didn't.

"I hope we're not rushing you," Halden managed to say finally, and Violet couldn't help being a little charmed by how little he bothered to hide his reactions around her. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"I could certainly eat," Violet agreed.

“We’re ready,” Sloane said. “No thanks to whoever picked out clothes for Violet’s wardrobe; did they learn nothing from dressing me? Riders don’t wear pastels.”

Halden winced. “Sorry. They’re usually safe.”

Cam elbowed him in the side. "Looks like I win."

"Did you have a bet on whether I'd like the dresses?"

"Not exactly," Halden said, but Cam said "yes" on top of him.

Violet frowned. "You don't need to lie. Bodhi's husband is enough of a trickster than I've probably seen worse than anything you can come up with, but I don't want to be lied to."

"He was overconfident," Cam told her as he took Sloane's hand. "Remembered you'd worn colors like that as a kid."

"When we were dating, too," Halden added.

"I liked pale colors then," she agreed. "I liked to think I was practicing scribe colors, at least when I was younger. But I've gotten used to who I am in black."

She let Sloane and Cam carry the conversation to the dining room, trying not to second guess every decision she’d made that brought her here. We used to be friends, she reminded herself. We can be friends again. We just - have to get used to who we are now.

That thought went double when she realized that the handful of people waiting in the dining room included Dain.

If she'd thought about it, it shouldn't have been a surprise. She knew Dain had accepted the position as his father's second in command to try to make up for ancient mistakes. She knew Melgren was out of the picture so it wasn't surprising to find Aetos here, his smile pinched and condescending as ever. And if that was sensible and expected, surely it was also sensible and expected that Dain would be there as his second in command.

Violet leaned over to whisper to Halden. "If I asked you to get rid of General Aetos, would you?"

The king startled, though he brought it back under control in a heartbeat. Public face. Violet understood that, though it took something away from the idea of a welcoming dinner. So did the dresses, though.

"I don't have a replacement in mind at the moment, but I'm open to suggestions after the engagement," he whispered back. It was a fair, measured response, not dismissing her out of hand, and Violet told herself she appreciated it.

Violet tried to remember the last time she'd smiled at General Aetos. Maybe once in bitter victory at showing him she was not dead? Otherwise, not since Liam-

This was really not the time for that thought. She packed it away in a box for later.

The rest of the council was made up of people she didn't know, a mix of civilian nobility, scribes, an infantry general old enough to have trained alongside Tauri, and a woman dressed in the robes of a priestess of Malek. Cheerful.

Halden introduced everyone, an onslaught of names and titles she knew she wouldn’t remember. It had been a long time since she’d met more than one or two people at once, and it was a skill she was going to have to work on.

Violet found herself seated to Halden's right, across from Cam. She wished there was a way she could sit next to Sloane but had accepted that wasn't going to happen. Since she hadn't been here before, that meant she had displaced… oh, General Aetos, if the fact that Dain was already in the seat beside her when Halden pushed the chair in was any indication.

"You're right, this should be General Aetos's seat, but I begged his patience so we could catch up." Dain was pitching his voice so it carried, and she wondered if his father actually had been asked ahead of time or if this was Dain's idea of begging his patience.

Either way, it meant she wasn't sitting next to the man who had tried to send her to her death, so she wasn't complaining. Most of the advisors seemed happy to meet her, or happy to see how Halden smiled, or something like that. The only people who asked after her were Dain, one of the scribes, and the priestess of Malek, which she had not expected.

“It’s good to see you,” she murmured to Dain as the conversation ebbed and flowed around them. “Can we catch up later?”

“I would love that,” he said. “Let me know when you’re available; I’ll make time.”

"As far as I know, I'm entirely available. Find me tomorrow morning." When she looked back at Halden, he was smiling at her as if there was no one else in the room, and Violet didn't quite know how to feel about that. Some noble she'd already forgotten the name of begged his attention, and the moment passed.

She let Halden, Cam and Sloane distract her during most of the meal, and no one mentioned that she was pushing half of the food around her plate. Sloane seemed to be avoiding most of the richer fare that Calldyr was known for too; she kept sliding bits of it onto Cam's plate with a practiced ease that Violet envied.

After dinner, they moved to a second room for what Violet had thought of as the best part of a dinner party in Calldyr as a child: desserts. Tiny, decorated pastries were arranged on towers built to mimic the shape of the castle, and sweet liquors were served to match.

"I don't remember the afterspread looking quite like that when I lived here," Violet observed as Halden led her over to the table. Apparently she'd been upgraded to first picks instead of the leftovers they'd had to sneak when they were up after bedtime.

"My father commissioned that… for Reunification Day, now that I think about it." He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "They only bring it out once in a while, since we rarely have this many people at dinner."

"That was certainly a choice your father made." She expected she'd be using those words quite a bit in the future.

Halden scanned the crowd. "I'm not sure if Cam or his bride realized, but I think I'll make sure it's not used again. It really is a bit much even without the unfortunate history."

“Unless it’s designed to be able to give guests directions of where they should go after dinner, it seems… like something I might have seen in Cordyn, to be honest.”

He winced. "My father's measured taste was not one of the things we praised at his passing."

"Now that I think about it, Tecarus would have gone a bit farther," Violet offered as she took the drink that was offered to her, her dessert plate piled with tiny sweet bites. "He'd have it decorated to match so it was like a map, with spun sugar gardens and his throne room lined in gingerbread."

Halden laughed at that. "I think I'd feel conflicted about eating this place, even in miniature."

It wasn't long before he was pulled away from her again, and Violet was starting to suspect that Sloane and Cam had snuck off between rooms. She found a bench near the corner to sit in and watched the rest of the guests instead, trying to remember names and titles and what she'd picked up about any given person from listening. There would be a lot of untangling names later.

"Do you mind if I join you?" the woman in the robes of Malek asked. Her hair shone black as the sea at night, half of it pulled up into a twist and the other half pouring down her back. The easy warmth in her dark skin reminded Violet of Rhiannon, and she carried herself confidently.

"If you like," Violet gestured to the other side of the bench.

The other woman smiled. "Thank you. I usually wind up sitting here by myself by this point in the evening."

"I should apologize for imposing on your solitude, then," Violet paused, reaching for the name, "Ericure?"

"Oh, you even got the accent right!"

"It's a traditional Lucerish name, right? I learned Old Lucerish when I was young."

"Most of the scribes don't even manage the implied ae at the beginning. You'll be a good influence around here."

After an evening of being praised alternately for her beauty or her skills in battle, Violet was surprised how much she appreciated being seen for her linguistics. "For a long time I planned to be a scribe like my father, but life is… surprising."

Ericure laughed. "Isn't that the way of it? I grew up expecting to be a hunter like my sisters."

"I guess you could consider that another way to serve Malek."

"You are not wrong there, but the weather is certainly better here, so I can't complain much about Malek's temple."

"I haven't been there in ages," Violet said, stopping before the rest of her thoughts could crash out of her mouth. There was no shortage of names she could offer at the fires there. She should make time, but she couldn't think about it tonight.

"Aretia's temple is primarily for Amari, isn't it? I'd love to hear about the reconstruction, I've heard they made some unusual choices in there."

"Theology isn't really my field, but I've spent a fair amount of time there," Violet agreed. "Since there was so much rebuilding to do, they made space for most of the other gods in Amari's temple instead of putting resources into restoring all of them."

"And it's gone over well?"

"As far as I know, it has. I think a lot of people like being able to offer to more than one god for their situations, if it seems appropriate. During the war I knew people who would offer to Dunne, Zihnal and Malek when they returned from a battle. My friend Ridoc, he favors Zihnal, but he always said he liked to make offerings to everyone because you never know what kind of help you might need."

"Your friend sounds very practical," Ericure laughed again. "What about you, Violet? Do you favor anyone?"

"For most of the Barren War I felt like I was dancing with Malek," Violet admitted. "I had some losses early in the fighting that hit me very hard. It's not exactly dinner party conversation, so I won't bother you with the details."

"If you'd like to talk about it, you can come visit me. I didn't attend Basgiath but we have our own training in healing emotions and the mind. For that matter, I'd love to pick your brain about Amari's temple a bit further. I know you said you're not a theologian but you seem observant and good at drawing conclusions."

"I may take you up on that." She was surprised to realize she meant it. "For now I think I'm going to retire, but it was my pleasure to meet you, Ericure."

When Violet opened her eyes the next morning, she didn’t immediately remember where she was. It wasn’t in her own bed, or her own room, but she was alone. “Calldyr City,” she said aloud. She was in her own bed, in her own room, just not in Aretia.

A soft tap at the door interrupted her thoughts. Violet got up slowly, wincing as every joint and muscle reminded her of the previous day’s flight, pulled on the black robe she’d brought from Tyrrendor, and opened it a crack. “Yes?”

There was a woman in a court-appropriate morning dress standing there, with a polite smile and bright red hair pulled up into an elaborate braided bun. "Good morning, General. I just wanted to let you know I'm Sybill, your lady in waiting. I've been assigned to help Lady Sloane since she arrived, and I'll be handling both of your needs until she leaves."

"That won't be too much work for you, will it?"

"Not likely," Sybill raised her eyebrow in an arch. "Lady Sloane doesn't want me to do anything for her."

Violet winced. “Sloane didn’t know Cam was a prince when they started dating,” she observed. “It’s nothing personal, I’m sure.”

"Oh, I can't complain. I have plenty of free time. Can I help you with something to wear today?" Sybill bustled right past Violet and over to the armoire, pulling open some of the drawers on the side. As she moved, Violet took a moment to appreciate how much more practical her dress looked than the ones she'd been choosing between last night, despite looking formal enough for a morning dress at court. It must have been a very fine linen, dyed a deep reddish-brown and with some kind of embroidered bodice.

She thought that it must be reinforced with stays, because Sybill kept her torso very straight as she bent to look in a drawer and pull out some hose. Violet recoiled at the idea and started to join her, asking if maybe there weren't some trousers, any kind of trousers, or even a simpler skirt, when she noticed the way the stays were set didn't actually look fashionable at all. It looked familiar.

It looked like it was concealing daggers.

"Silver One?" She felt Tairn and Andarna's concern.

"Can you find Astar or Thoirt? I need a hand from Sloane or Cam if they're around."

Suddenly Violet was very aware that no one had introduced her to Sybill, or even mentioned her by name before. She certainly didn't move like the servants, or like the Caldyrran nobility Violet had met.

Violet moved as if she was reaching for something in the drawer in front of Sybill and channeled just enough energy to enhance her speed as she reached over at the last moment, her fingers finding the drawing end of one of the pin-straight daggers. She shoved Sybill against the wall with her shoulder, wincing as she did- the woman was definitely more muscle than she looked under that linen- and holding the dagger to her throat.

"I heard you were good," Sybill seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "What gave me up?"

"I've worn daggers against my ribs since I was twenty. I recognized the way the dress hid them. Are you supposed to kill me?"

"The opposite. Can you put the blade down? You can hold onto it for now. It's just, I like my throat in one piece."

Violet shook her head. "You've got at least five more of these in that bodice. I'm going to remove them and set them down, then you're going to move away."

Sybill started to nod but froze when her neck pressed against the blade. Violet quickly began to pull the other daggers from their slots just as the door to the room crashed open.

"Violet! What's-- isn't that the maid?" Sloane asked.

Cam walked past her and stepped up next to Violet. He saw the daggers in Violet's hands and then looked at Sybill, then back at Violet.

"Halden should have explained this beforehand, but I bet he didn't realize she'd be in this early. Vi, this is Sybill, she was hand picked to be Sloane's lady in waiting originally."

"I still don't need servants," Sloane grumbled.

"Conveniently, that frees her up for you, Vi."

Violet considered what Cam was saying. "Hand picked from where?"

"Infantry Special Operations," Sybill answered. "I'm Major Sybill Coulson, trained lady in waiting, bodyguard and occasional assassin."

“Oh,” Violet said, shoulders slumping. “Sorry, Major, I just - since nobody told me to expect you -”

“I always tell them to warn my principals, especially when they’re military,” she replied, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “I admit I’m glad to see you’re still sharp as ever, General; it makes my job easier.”

"How can Halden possibly think she needs a bodyguard?" Sloane asked when Cam stepped back toward her. "Wait, did you say she was my bodyguard?"

Cam slung an arm around her shoulder. "I didn't realize just how aggressively you hate knowing anything about palace life. I know I introduced her to you."

“I don’t need a bodyguard either,” Sloane grumbled. “You don’t have a bodyguard.”

"Of course I do. I know you don't like Klimt but he's always hanging around for reasons other than complaining about my fashion choices."

"Klimt doesn't count," she grumbled as she dragged him toward the door. "I want Aaric back."

"Vi, I believe Aetos will have a new uniform jacket for you today. We'll see you later," Cam told her just before he disappeared down the hall.

"So." Sybill reclaimed her daggers and slipped them back into her bodice. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

"Where did we leave off?"

"You wanted trousers. There are some dress uniform pieces in the drawers over here if you want to take your pick."

“Thank the gods. If I had to struggle into one of those pastel monstrosities, I might decide that going back to Tyrrendor was easier.” Violet opened one of the drawers and blew out a relieved breath to discover several cuts of dress trousers.

“Pastels? With your complexion? What was Alys thinking?”

“I believe the king was thinking that I used to wear pastels when I was a teenager and thought I was going to be a scribe.”

Sybill sighed. “Amari protect us from the good intentions of oblivious men. If you’re not opposed, we might pay her a visit this morning. She’ll take one look at you and completely redesign your wardrobe, I suspect. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the king described you as his potential betrothed without stopping to explain who you were; he has a bit of difficulty remembering everyone doesn’t know all the things he knows.” She slid a pair out from the stack that proved to be only a little looser than her flight leathers in a soft wool. “I think these will suit you best.”

“Thank you. I’m not opposed, especially if it means I don’t have to wear lemon yellow and leaf green to dinner.” Violet found a tunic that would work with the pants and pulled it on. Sybill stepped in smoothly and laced her corset.

“Not on my watch, General. They’d laugh me out of court if I allowed such a travesty.”

“They who?”

“The other ladies-in-waiting, for one - how much do you know about the inner workings of court?”

“Almost nothing,” Violet admitted. “I was very young when I lived here, and the Archduke’s court in Aretia isn’t nearly as formal as I remember Calldyr being.”

“Despite Lady Sloane’s assumption, a lady in waiting is decidedly not a kind of maid. Generally it’s a young unmarried noblewoman. She’s taught to help a higher-ranking noblewoman with her personal tasks - bathing, dressing, hair and makeup, that sort of thing. She might manage her lady’s social calendar and correspondence, depending on the level of complexity. She’s also and most importantly a companion. In return, she spends most of her time with a higher-ranking woman who’s there to help her make better connections in court than she would be able to do by herself. In King Tauri’s court, lady in waiting was frequently a transitory sort of position, one a new debutante might take for a year or two before moving on to her own marriage and family. There’s some hope that, once there’s a queen on the throne, it might be more like Poromiel, where a lady in waiting might earn rank of her own as a long-term helper and friend to the queen. My job, aside from the part where I’m bound to keep you alive and unharmed, is to make sure you get to where you’re supposed to be and that you look amazing when you get there. A dress that clashes with your skin would be a clear sign that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That sounds like politics, all the way down.” Violet sighed. “I don’t even like politics, why am I doing this?”

“I admit that I don’t know you as a person, General, but if I had to hazard a guess it’s because you thought it needed doing and that you would be suited to do it. In a word: duty.”

“That’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose. I wanted to help Halden and I wasn’t needed in Aretia. They were happy to have me, but it’s not the same.”

"A soldier without a war, hm?" She sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "I'm sure we'll have no trouble finding you something worth doing."

Violet hesitated. "There is actually one thing- some research I had in mind, that means I'll need to visit Basgiath and the Archives. There's… dragon reasons as well, but it will be simplest if I'm there every few days. Halden and I discussed it in a broad way, but will it be a problem for you if I'm gone half the week?" Sgaeyl could certainly visit Tairn here from the Vale, if she wanted, but Violet wanted to see how much freedom she really had, too.

“No, that shouldn’t be a problem. His Majesty will likely send Caroline with you and I will remain with him.”

Violet started brushing out her hair, but her shoulder hitched when she reached around. Before she could opt for a simpler style, Sybill was taking the brush from her hand. "Let me, please."

It had been a long time since someone had touched Violet's hair, and even longer since she hadn't had an arm in a sling when they did it. The simple idea of letting Sybill braid her hair up, not just this morning but every morning, was the most decadent thing she could imagine in that moment. Sybill had nimble fingers and quickly braided and twisted a series of loops in her hair that she pinned into place with delicate-looking silver and blue hairpins.

"They're steel, and they work as short daggers in a pinch," she mentioned as she held up a hand mirror so Violet could see the back. "The flowers are sapphires wielded in the shape of violets, and yes, he had them made for you."

Violet thought of violets on her pillow, and wondered for the first time whether Hal had been in love with her when they were together, and if he was still in love with the girl she had been. Would he love the woman she had become, or would this just be Dain all over again, trying to push her back into what he expected?

“Thank you,” Violet said, admiring the artistry. They were daggers, she reminded herself. That, at least, showed that Hal was aware that she’d changed even if he didn’t understand the changes yet.

Sybill took her to Alys first, who fussed over Violet's coloring and took proper measurements. "And what sorts of weapons, and where do you like to hide them?"

They talked about dagger placement for a considerable time, as well as dress uniforms and other, casual options Violet would like.

"I have a thought," she said as she considered the clothes Violet had chosen today. "I'd considered suggesting it to Lady Sloane but I don't think she had the right personality to pull it off. But if you felt like pushing the boundary a bit, I could make you something for formal dinners that used the same pieces as anything the Halden or the men in his court would wear, only cut and styled to flatter you. It would be a bit of a sensation, so if you'd rather not, I understand."

“I don’t have an objection to skirts for special occasions,” Violet explained. “I just need them to be suitable for fighting in. If I have to dress for dinner every night, the top has to be cut in a way that I can wear my corset, and the skirt has to be full enough that I can move, or slit up to the thigh. But I’m also struggling a little with the idea that a meal that happens every day is a special occasion that requires dressing up. I suppose I’ll have to discuss that with the king."

"You can talk to the king, and I'll work my magic," Alys agreed.

"For now I believe Colonel Aetos is waiting for you," Sybill reminded her.

There was a strange moment of ice in Violet's stomach before she reminded herself that Dain's father had been General Aetos for a decade now. "Right. Let's go see Dain."

Sybill led the way to a hallway that was mostly offices - she saw scribes clustered in the near ones, followed by some infantry, and then Dain about halfway down in an office that was smaller than Bodhi’s back in Aretia but bigger than the one next door. He looked up at their footsteps and gave them a warm, welcoming smile, standing as they paused in his doorway.

“Violet! Come in, please. Have a seat.” He wore a dress uniform as well, confirming her vague memory of how riders dressed at the palace.

Violet came in, taking the visitor’s seat across from him. “It’s good to see you. You’re looking well.”

He was looking well, less tense than he’d appeared the night before, and his genuine smile stayed put as he offered her coffee from his small pot. “So are you. And I have to admit, I’m glad I didn’t take Cam’s bet, because I would’ve lost. I never expected you to be interested in Hal’s offer.”

“I wouldn’t have been, if anyone else had asked me,” Violet told him. “But he made it sound interesting, and I really needed something else to do now that the war’s over.”

"There are worse hobbies to have than marrying royalty," Dain considered. "I hope it will be, though. Interesting, that is."

"So," Violet decided to get the awkward question over with. "How is working with your father treating you?"

Dain spit his mouthful of coffee back into his cup. "Why- what have you heard?"

"Nothing. I just noticed you seem in a much better mood this morning." The without him here went unsaid.

"About as well as could be expected,” he said carefully.

Violet winced. “That bad?”

“No! I mean… he. Does an excellent job and it’s an honor to serve alongside him.”

Raising an eyebrow, Violet twitched a finger and the door closed. “What I’m hearing is that you hate every minute and you feel like you’re being suffocated?”

“Also no one considers my work as being valuable and they all think my rank has been handed to me,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Which is why you can’t get transferred out?”

“Exactly.” He sighed. “When I first took the position, I thought it would be fine - great, even. You know my dad and I always got along, and I thought - well, now that everything was out in the open, we could be close again. Except.”

“I take it that’s not what happened?”

“Ten years after the Battle of Basgiath, he still acts like it was somehow Tyrrendor’s fault that the school was attacked. You don’t have to tell me how detached from reality that take is, either.”

“Wow. That’s - awful.”

“It’s not great. Be careful around him, Vi; he’s not enthusiastic about Halden choosing you as his bride and you know how he gets.”

“Like he might try and have me assassinated in the shower?”

“Nothing that overt. But you can expect a certain amount of - skepticism - from him.”

“Especially after I steal his assistant. Assuming you’re willing to be stolen?”

"Gods above, yes, please steal me." Dain laughed a little. "I think this makes twice you've stolen me from my father."

"You could have come back to Tyrrendor, you know."

He leaned against the desk. "Could I, though? Given how fragile things have been half the time, I'm sure Dad would have managed to turn it into another incident regardless of how far into Elsum or Deaconshire the venin were at the time."

Violet frowned. "I just hate that you've been miserable here."

"It's not all bad. I've gotten to help more people than you'd think, just keeping them off my father's radar. And I've got Astrid and the boys when I go home at night."

"That's right! I finally get to meet the elusive Astrid." Violet had still been running on grief and coffee when they'd gotten the announcement of Dain's wedding; the idea of attending had never seriously been on the table for her. That had meant she'd never gotten to meet Dain's wife, and only knew her through the stories Dain told when they wound up at the same place for a few hours or days.

"You should come over for lunch! I'm sure she'd love to meet you too."

"Are you sure she wouldn't rather have some warning?"

"I told her this morning that I was going to meet with you today, she probably expects it."

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course. Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” He stood up and opened the armoire in the corner of the room, pulling out a jacket and handing it to Violet. “The other versions of it will appear in your room, but I wanted to give this to you myself.”

It was a dress uniform jacket, the only piece that hadn’t been present in her own armoire, and the first thing she thought when she looked at it was that it somehow had belonged to her mother. It had a general’s insignia on it, clusters of medals, the name SORRENGAIL in tidy stitches. The wing patch had the crowned emblem of Calldyr, meant for riders assigned to the palace, and that was what made her realize it was hers, thanks to Bodhi’s last irritated gift to her career. Violet pulled it on, and it fit perfectly, which Lilith Sorrengail’s certainly would not have.

“How do you put up with this all the time? It’s so heavy.”

Dain laughed. “Mine’s not nearly as heavy. It’s one drawback of being a significant war hero, Vi, which isn’t a problem I have.”

“Bullshit, I served alongside you, I know how much you did during the war.”

He shrugged. “I’m competent, not remarkable; once I figured that out I got a lot more comfortable with myself.”

“There are remarkable things about you,” Violet protested. “You could’ve had quite a career in intelligence.”

Dain shuddered. “No. No, I couldn’t have.”

Violet let that drop. "I don't even know what some of these medals are."

"Yesterday afternoon's debate about what you had earned was challenging, but I'm confident there isn't anything on there you wouldn't accept." As they walked to his quarters in the family wing, he went through the medals with ruthless precision, citing individual acts and battles she'd fought alongside her riot. Violet wondered what else he thought ought to be on there that she wouldn't accept.

She could hear a small child shrieking for several feet before he opened a door and the volume increased. A woman’s voice, muffled, was responding, but Violet couldn’t make it out. “Astrid?” Dain called.

“Dain? Oh, thank the gods. Hear that, Da’s home, wash your hands and you can go say hello.”

"Hi, Da!" a child shouted, and Dain stumbled back out of the doorway as the boy attached to him. He looked about three, Violet thought, sorting him between Bodhi and Ridoc's children to estimate. She hadn't known Dain when they were that young, but his warm eyes and the way he smiled at his dad reminded Violet of a slightly older Dain running through these same halls.

"Finn! He's wearing his dress pants, you're going to get honey-"

The boy had spotted her and his eyes were wide. She watched him count something on his fingers for a second and then he shouted, "Ma! Da's brought a general for lunch!"

"He knows his ranks," Violet grinned.

"All the more reason to go wash your hands, Finn," the woman said, guiding the boy back into their quarters and then looking at Violet.

She looked familiar, but Violet couldn't place her. She had brown hair and delicate features, and she was wearing a soft cream tunic that had clearly been retired from Scribe service and pressed into use around the house. She startled when she saw Violet and then looked to Dain.

He had the grace to go red in the cheeks. "I told you this morning that I was meeting Violet today," he said, clearly realizing his timing had not been the best.

"You must be Astrid," Violet said. "I've heard so much about you! But if this isn't a good time, I can get lunch somewhere else." She realized she wanted this woman to like her. She wanted to care about someone who was important to Dain. It seemed… fair, somehow? That was a thought she could pick apart later.

Astrid's eyes were on the name badge of her dress uniform, and then back up to Violet's face. "I've heard a lot about you too, General Sorrengail." She handed a baby to Dain, a small bean of a child with pale hair, younger than any of her nieces or nephews. "It's fine, we've got plenty of lunch and Finn just helped me make honey rolls with extra honey. Dain, take Tage while I set another place."

“Please, call me Violet. General Sorrengail was my mother.”

“Not any more,” Dain pointed out.

“I’ll get used to it when I have to, but I refuse to stand on formality over lunch.”

The apartment felt lived in, something she couldn't remember much of from her childhood aside from her father's study. There were blankets and burp cloths and toys on most of the surfaces, and simple ink paintings tacked to the wall.

Finn came back with damp but honeyless hands and bowed to Violet like a miniature Dain. Violet bowed back very seriously and Finn grinned up at her. Astrid called them all over to the table, taking the baby back so she could feed him under the loose scribe robe while Dain immediately jumped in to help Finn with his lunch.

Violet smiled at Astrid again. "I feel like I should already know you. Dain's gushed about you every time we've spoken since you married, I think."

Astrid tried to smile back, but the look on her face said she was actually a little terrified. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too. From Dain, but also in the Scribe Quadrant. Is it true that you trained as a scribe before you became a rider?”

“Yes and no? My father was a scribe, and I intended to follow in his footsteps, but my mother had other ideas and I ended up as a rider.”

“Did Dain try and throw you back to the scribes? He likes to tell me that he did and you refused.”

“Yes, he did,” Violet laughed. “He came up with at least half a dozen schemes to sneak me into the Scribe Quadrant without my mother finding out, but once I got across the parapet, there was no stopping me, much to his chagrin.”

"It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure that out." Dain looked up from trying to convince Finn that vegetables were, in fact, edible.

"Ma's the smart one," Finn agreed, and Dain laughed.

"Then you should mind her better, Fishstick."

Violet looked back at Astrid and mouthed fishstick? She couldn't help but see how comfortable Dain seemed with fatherhood and wonder where it had come from. He certainly hadn't learned that from his father. If anything, it reminded Violet of her own dad. Dain had spent enough time in their house as kids.

There was a time when this was the future she'd imagined for herself.

Now, she could barely picture herself as having any part of it. There was nothing of her life in Basgiath that had offered the possibility of any sort of future, and once she’d arrived on the other side of the war, there hadn’t been anyone left to build a dream around.

The grief was overwhelming for a moment, coming in the particular shape she only saw very occasionally; a boy with Xaden’s dark eyes and her mouth, a girl with silvery hair and dark skin, the life that had been stolen before she had a chance to dream it into being.

Tairn brushed against her thoughts wordlessly. It was enough to lift her despair, to allow her wrestle the grief back into its box, to take comfort in the happiness of other people. Bodhi and Ridoc, Imogen and Garrick, Sloane and Aaric, and here she supposed it would be Dain and Astrid.

She distracted herself by peppering Astrid with questions about her scribe work instead.

"I did a lot of work as a second and third year gathering first person interviews about the Battle of Basgiath, and my capstone was actually a guide to flier terminology." Violet watched her face light up when she talked about her work. "I was a field messenger when Dain and I met. Obviously that ended when I put in to follow him. I was an undersecretary for my father in law for a while, before Finn came along."

Violet didn't realize she'd made a face until Dain laughed softly and Astrid continued, "It wasn't that bad! Didn't help the nepotism rumors any, though, and officially I've just been doing independent research since. Finn's a handful and I was sick and… Well, you don't want to hear about that."

That gave Violet an idea, though. "Are you interested in going back to secretary duties?"

"Well, there's the boys… Finn is old enough to put in creche during the day, but we're still working on some of his behaviors. And this one…" She brought Tage out from under her robes and burped him.

"She's brilliant and she's bored as hell, Violet," Dain added.

"Dain!" Astrid laughed. "I'm lucky to be able to focus on the boys."

"You can be lucky and bored." Dain came around the table, taking the baby in one arm and rubbing his wife's shoulder for a moment before he started gently patting the baby's back. Astrid reached up to adjust the cloth draped over the shoulder of his dress shirt just before Tage spit up all over it.

"I need to have a staff. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to be doing with my free time, but if nothing else I'll be spending a lot of time at Basgiath and someone handling correspondence for me here would be wonderful, and you can help me compile my research. Dain's already said yes, so you'd be working together."

“Are you sure? You haven’t seen any of my work.”

“Not directly, but I trust Dain, and his ability to identify good scribes is the only way I trust his father. We can have a trial period of a month or so and see how well we fit together.”

"If you really want me, I don't think it's an opportunity I can turn down," she answered slowly.

"You absolutely could turn me down," Violet shook her head. "My father focused on independent research and raising us. There's nothing wrong with that. But if you're bored, it's a good way to try easing back in."

“Tage is still too young to be separated,” Astrid said reluctantly.

“Bring him, then. Bring them both, if you like. Tyrs are very attached to their children; I’m used to having them around. Since both of you will be working with me, you can trade off.”

Astrid gave Dain a quick, questioning look. He smiled back, and she turned to Violet. “I’d love to.”

"Excellent. Now I've got a staff."

When lunch was over, Dain pulled Violet aside. "There's one other thing I nearly forgot to mention. Your rider escort is going to be Captain Ashton when you go to Basgiath- you saw her at Aretia. I debriefed her and she didn't sound thrilled, but she's got the rank and the flexibility for it."

"I didn't get the impression she likes me very much," Violet agreed. "Do I really need an escort? I can't imagine this would make her like me more."

"You do need an escort, just like you need Sybill. But there's some complications."

"Like what? Isn't there another rider who can do it?"

"If it's not Ashton it'll look like she's getting snubbed." And of course Dain would be thinking about that. "I think Ashton's worried about you, honestly."

"Worried about me?"

"Do you remember her? She crossed the same year you did. She didn't go to Aretia, though, she stayed in Navarre, and she was never in your wing."

"Is she worried I'd be bothered by that? I can't imagine any rider getting assigned to Calldyr who defected, even if it was just the original few months."

"Maybe it's best that you don't remember her personally, because she was friends with Jack Barlowe."

Well that was a name Violet hadn't thought about in years and hadn't missed. "So she thinks I remember her and hate her for that? Barlowe even tried to be nice to me after- before- ugh, fuck him."

"Right. But Ashton was close to him. She was a late bond, and she felt like she owed him for his support."

"His… support." Violet repeated that slowly. "Dain…" There was no way.

"She came clean to leadership right after the Battle of Basgiath, and she's been in remission since then, working with the Mender in Residence. She already goes there regularly for treatment, which is the other reason it makes sense for her to be your escort. But for obvious reasons it's not exactly a known fact."

"And she serves in the palace? Dain, what the hell?"

"That was my father's call." Dain winced. "Officially she's on his staff, but she's getting reassigned to you. Also my father's call."

She narrowed her eyes. "Which was information you chose not to lead with."

"I wanted to see what you remembered about her first," Dain held up his hands. "I'm sorry."

"Who knows? You, your father, does Halden know?"

"Halden was briefed when… when he took control, shortly before his father died. Tauri knew before that. But I didn't want you to find out later, and honestly I wouldn't be surprised if you had figured out some way to tell? Especially once you're spending time with her. The physical symptoms are very minimal, but you know venin better than almost anyone."

Violet took one deep breath and then another, willing herself to think about this logically. Barlowe had been charming with the people he thought were useful. The idea that someone could turn and regret it was… not something she'd considered before, but it seemed plausible. And if Dain was willing to speak for her, and Halden was willing to trust her… and for that matter, if she was willing to fly to Tyrrendor and negotiate with the country that specialized in hunting venin, she was brave.

"Tairn?"

"I will speak with Gleann. If I do not like her answers, you will not fly with her rider."

"Okay. Tairn wants to talk to her dragon, I guess? But aside from that… On your word, I'll give her a shot. And she's got to be okay with me knowing? And asking her questions?"

"I insisted, but she didn't argue. She doesn't like talking about it," Dain nodded. "But she'll have your back, if you let her."

"I'm not going to give her my back, but I'll take hers. And she doesn't set foot in Tyrrendor again without my okay, at the minimum." Violet shook her head. Navarre had had a venin in Calldyr and Basgiath the whole time. In remission, whatever that meant, and she was going to be asking Ashton plenty of questions about it. But it did make her wonder what else Navarre was hiding.

Violet hoped that most of her days in the palace wouldn’t be a series of meetings punctuated by meals, but that was as apt a description of her first full day as she could come up with when Sybill informed her that her last appointment of the day was dinner in the king’s suite.

“Do I have to change out of my uniform?” she asked, rather dreading the answer.

“Not unless you want to. His majesty prefers everyone meet as equals at the table, but this is a private meal and the rules don’t apply.”

She thought about it again, the idea of meeting as equals. It made sense, and it sounded good. She liked the shape of it, liked what Halden was trying to do. It wasn't as if she were trying to… she didn't even know what she'd be doing. Pulling rank? But he was the king, so it wasn't as if wearing her leathers put her above him.

It wasn't something she'd really thought about back in Aretia. She tried to picture an average evening in one of the dining rooms, even in the small one that was for hiding from the busy cafeteria. 

Well, that was one thought. There was a busy cafeteria, and she ate there at least once or twice a week, usually when she was talking to someone, sometimes with Bodhi and Ridoc and the kids, even. 

Tyrs didn’t stand on formality or care much for hierarchy. It was how she’d ended up as a general in the first place; Bodhi used rank as a weapon against the people who thought it was meaningful. He’d been a third-year cadet when he’d suddenly been promoted to Archduke, and he found the entire system more ridiculous than otherwise. Xaden might have felt differently, but Bodhi found his title more indicative of accident rather than worthiness. 

She wondered too, if he would feel differently about King.

On the other hand, Violet wondered what it said about her that her leathers were the only clothes she felt were her instead of a costume. Maybe this is part of learning to be a person again, she thought, and decided to change into her regular leathers rather than wearing her dress uniform. 

"You've always been a person, haven't you?" Andarna asked. "As far as I know you weren't a dragon. Were you a gryphon?"

Violet laughed and sent warm affection down the bond to her. “Not literally, love. Like… Cuir’s rider is the Archduke of Tyrrendor, but he’s also a husband and a father and a friend. But I don’t have a partner or children. My primary relationships are with you and Tairn.”

“And even Tairn has Sgaeyl,” Andarna replied thoughtfully. “You forgot to have someone who loves just you.”

“I didn’t forget,” Violet protested. “He died.”

“A long time ago! I was barely more than a feathertail. It’s time to find a new one, like your brother did.”

Violet stilled herself before responding. "I'm working on that, love, remember?" In fact, she was dressing for dinner with him.

She did let Sybill help her out of the ridiculously heavy jacket with its treasury worth of medals attached, and agreed to a nicer tunic. It looked comfortable and soft, and it fit well. 

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Violet asked as Sybill started to brush and re-style her hair.

"Of course."

"You don't have to answer, but I was curious, why did you pick Infantry?"

Sybill shrugged. "I wasn't cut out for Scribes or Healers, and I was afraid of heights."

"That is an excellent reason not to be a rider."

“It isn’t even the flying, though that’s terrifying all by itself. My older brother’s a rider, and he wrote to me about the parapet. I nearly threw up just reading about it.”

“Parapet is awful,” Violet agreed as Sybill took down her hair and started twisting it into a more elaborate style. “The day I crossed, there was a storm and I was terrified I was going to blow over the side.”

Sybill shuddered. “I’m entirely convinced that riders are the bravest quadrant. Or the stupidest, begging your pardon.”

Violet laughed. “Probably a little of both. People who can’t push back their fear don’t survive. And plenty of people who can push back their fear don’t survive either.”

“Infantry at least makes it until graduation before they start killing us off, for the most part.”

"Too senseless either way," Violet said with a frown. "Though I've heard that's been better for Infantry lately. Is that since Melgren retired?"

“He stepped back for a while before he officially retired, and it started getting better then, from what I’ve heard. I’m not a field commander; it’s mostly word of mouth that I get.”

Sybill stepped back and picked up the hairpin Halden had sent for her and Violet paused.

"Not tonight," she said. It felt silly, the way she kept picking apart every interaction she had, but she was determined to lay every boundary she needed to feel comfortable. She pulled out a roll of quilted silk that she'd brought in her bag and laid it across the small table. Rather than either the delicate or the dramatic ones, she pulled out a carved wooden hairstick with a five-petaled flower at the top. "Will this work?"

“Oh, this is beautiful. Yes, I can use this to good effect.”

A few minutes later, Violet made her way to Halden's private dining room. She wondered if he'd see the hairstick as a rejection, but if he did, that was yet another thing she wanted to know now and not later, when it would be harder. 

When she reached the room, he was already there. Violet paused in the doorway to watch him. He certainly looked formal enough, with his tunic trimmed in embroidery, but he was also leaning back in his chair, reading some kind of report. His hair was half in his face, and he had gold-rimmed spectacles framing his eyes.

It wasn't a bad look on him, Violet had to admit. Especially given the serious look on his face; whatever he was reading was not pleasing. 

"Good evening," she said as she moved over to the table. He startled just a tiny bit, and then a warm smile spread across his face that made her smile back without thinking. She felt welcome, a definite improvement over her first dinner here.

"Oh good, nobody's chased you away yet." Halden dropped the report on top of a small stack of paper and pushed it to the side of the table. He stood and pulled out her chair before she had a chance to move it.

"I'm pretty hard to scare off," Violet pointed out. "I'll let you pull out my chairs for now if you like, but I think that will get old long before we do."

"I would never think of not pulling out the chair of the woman I'm courting, Violet. My manners tutor would haunt me until the end of my days if I didn't. Or - whatever the official period of haunting was according to courtly protocol, and no longer."

When he sat back down, a single servant entered with dinner for both of them, then started to efficiently remove the stack of paperwork, but Halden set his hand down on the stack. "You can leave them, I'll be careful."

The young man gave Halden something very much like a stern look before bustling off and Halden smiled sheepishly at Violet. "I seem to have acquired a reputation after only two or three unfortunate gravy incidents." 

Violet laughed. “Two or three, hm? You’d think at that point they’d give them to you inside something that wouldn’t be damaged if it was spilled on.”

“I think they’re trying to train me out of working through dinner,” he admitted. “It’s not working very well.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Bodhi and Ridoc parent, it’s that you’ll have more success responding to what a person is actually doing rather than just continuing to hope they’ll suddenly start doing the thing you want them to.”

“A philosophy that works well for both children and adults, I daresay.”

Violet laughed. “Kids and adults aren’t that different, when it comes down to it. We all want to do the thing we want to do, and that doesn’t always align with what other people want us to do.”

“You are going to be an excellent queen, Violet.”

They ate, talking about their respective days. It was quietly domestic in a way that she liked. Most of the conversation was ordinary, the sort of conversation she might have with anyone. Halden talked about how he'd met Sybill and Violet shared about meeting Dain's children. 

Violet waited until dessert to bring up the subject of clothing. "I like the idea behind it, wanting everyone to meet as equals, but I'm not sure being expected to dress like a noblewoman is really any better. I'm happy to wear a fancy dress for special occasions, but not on a daily basis.”

“Probably the observation that the dress you wore to dinner isn’t particularly fancy isn’t what you’re wanting to hear, but it’s something to consider.”

“What’s considered fancy?”

“Depends on the occasion,” he said. “For example, the wedding dress worn by several generations of Navarran queens and consorts has a twelve-foot train.”

“Twelve feet?”

“Mmm. Beadwork, lace, and embroidery. It’s very fancy. I’m not terribly versed in women’s fashion overall; probably you’d have better luck asking one of the other ladies of the court as to what’s in style. Although my understanding is that you, as the presumptive future queen, will be the one they will look to as far as creating court fashion.”

“Politics all the way down,” Violet groaned. 

Halden laughed and nodded. “Afraid so, my dear. Humans are rather political animals, even when actual governance isn’t involved.”

"Wait, are you expecting me to wear that dress at our wedding?"

“That would be the tradition, yes. That dress for the ceremony, and you can choose your own for the reception. I know white for a wedding is impossibly old-fashioned, but the monarchy is, in many ways, the most impossibly old-fashioned thing around. Six hundred years of tradition, and all that.”

"My mother married in uniform," Violet said quietly. This was her tradition. "So did both of her parents. Mira married in uniform, and Brennan." And so did Aaric, she thought but didn't say. It probably wouldn't help to remind Halden that she had attended his brother's elopement and he had not.

“Your mother, your siblings, your grandparents are all lovely people with very fine traditions, but none of them were marrying the King of Navarre. If there’s one thing I’ve come to accept, it’s that the traditions of the Crown are about more than any individual monarch, and the symbols are themselves meaningful.” He sighed. “Trust me, if it were my choice, we’d run off somewhere and get married like peasants.”

"If the symbols are meaningful, then doesn't it mean something that you're marrying me? I thought the entire point was that this would be unifying because you're marrying a rider from Tyrrendor and Navarre both. Not just a woman you talked into wearing a dress three times as long as she is tall."

“The train comes off,” he said. “Not the point, I know. The dress isn’t the only symbol, and there are ways we will work to weave our diverse perspectives together, and… Queen Frida got married in that dress, Violet. She was the one it was made for.”

"Queen Frida was a foot taller than me and built like Mira, if her statues are anything to go by." Violet couldn't help picturing herself drowning in a pool of white silk and lace, pearls floating to the surface like bubbles while she was pulled under.

"Making clothing smaller is easy, Violet," Halden stopped himself and took a deep breath. "We don't have to solve this tonight. We don't have to solve anything tonight. And if you want to wear trousers instead of dresses to council dinners, I suppose you can start a trend. State dinners, balls, the wedding, we can discuss those when we get there. Will that do?"

“Did we just - have a fight?”

"Did we? It was a disagreement, certainly but a bit… lackluster compared to the fights I had with my father."

“We weren’t screaming at each other, no,” and it’s stupid to miss yelling at Xaden, stop that right now, “but it was solidly a difference of opinion and neither of us have changed our minds, we just decided to stop fighting about it for now. Which means you’ve already skipped past the phase where you’re painfully polite to me and give me everything I want until I blow up at you, which took at least six months the first time.”

"That seems like a good thing, unless you wish I were still giving you everything you wanted." He smiled at her. "I'm sure you'll find a reason to blow up at me eventually, everyone else on my council has."

“It’s a good thing. It feels kind of silly that I was worried about it, because obviously you’ve had a lot of time to get used to people disagreeing with you, but - to me it feels like trust. Is that strange?”

"I don't think it's strange. There were… I made mistakes before, and of course you'd be concerned about them, regardless of what's happened since. One of the reasons I proposed this to you was because I do trust you."

“It’s a different sort of trust, though. You trust me not to be interested in you just for your position, and you trust that I’ll be a decent queen, but you also trust that I won’t panic and run back to Aretia just because we have a disagreement.”

"You do have something of a reputation for not being the panicking sort. If you were willing to face down venin armies but not dinner with me, I think I'd have an entirely different problem with my reputation."

“Venin armies are just trying to kill me. Who knows what you have in mind.” Violet smiled at him. 

"Is there anything you'd like me to have in mind?" He managed to say it without any flirty inflection at all, and then just when she thought he might have actually be earnest he winked at her.

”I might have some ideas,” she replied, and felt her cheeks heat the same way they had when she was flirting with Halden as a teenager. It was a little bit mortifying.

"Perhaps after dinner we could retire to discuss them." Halden coughed. "Before we get too carried away, however, may I ask you a presumptuous question?"

"I appreciate the idea of asking permission, but you know me well enough to be aware I'm going to have to say yes because I want to know the question."

"You have a point," he allowed. "Well, given I've already asked, I was wondering if you received the hair ornament I sent for you."

There was very little chance he didn't know she had, Violet estimated. "I did. It's lovely, thank you."

"I noticed you're not wearing it, and I wanted to know if it was a deliberate choice, to ensure it wasn't a poor choice or badly received…"

"It's lovely, Halden, but I felt like wearing something sentimental tonight. My friend Liam made this for me, in our first year. He was-"

"He's one of the names the Tyrs honor every year, isn't he? I don't know the entire list, but I've had it given to me."

She hadn't been consciously planning to do this, either today or perhaps ever, but once the door was open the question fell out of Violet before she could stop it. "How much were you told about the first battle at Resson?"

"I know the Tyrs count the war starting there. I can tell by the look on your face that there's something else I should know about it. I will be honest, Violet, that I'm certain there are many details I'm not aware of; there was so much to cover as I started to take over for my father that I'm sure there are hundreds of details from the beginning and even the middle of the venin war that were left out, or that weren't recorded truthfully in Navarre's records, not to mention things further in the past."

Violet took a deep breath, trying to settle the roiling emotions in her stomach. “It was War Games at the end of my first year,” she began.

When she finished, Halden looked badly shaken. "I know it will sound empty, Violet, but I have to say that I apologize for making you have dinner in the same room with General Aetos after that. That you didn't even show how you felt suggests you're better at politics than you admit."

"Mostly it says that Dain rescued me by putting himself next to me," she pointed out. "But now you understand my reaction to him?"

"I can certainly understand why you want him replaced."

“Maybe he’s changed his mind about the children of the apostasy in the past ten years, but I will never trust him. There’s a difference between keeping the venin’s existence a secret and deliberately summoning them to slaughter innocents in the hopes they’ll take out your enemies in the chaos - and the fact that he has the position he does also suggests he took advantage of my mother’s death to weasel his way back into your father’s good graces.”

Halden rubbed the middle of his forehead. “Some of that was how many senior officers we lost during the war,” he sighed. “But you’re not entirely wrong about it.”

"Rationally I know I can't say I don't trust senior officers who survived the war considering I did, but I can't help thinking it with some people." Violet stood. "I appreciate you listening, Halden. I know you don't have to, and the fact that you are… I want you to know I see it."

“I didn’t ask you to come all the way to Calldyr to ignore what you had to say,” he said, getting to his feet and picking up the stack of reports. “There are a lot of reasons why you’re the best choice for my queen, Violet, starting with the fact that you’re my friend and including the very different perspective you have of the war as a rider and a Tyrrish officer.”

"You could get that from your brother, too."

"And I have, at least the latter parts. As for friends, we're still negotiating that."

"Maybe some space will be good for both of you. They must be leaving soon, the Assembly's going the be calling the spring Council meeting any day now."

"I think so." Halden looked tired, Violet thought. "We're supposed to talk about it in the morning."

"Good luck with that." She waited another minute, wondering if he would make a move. Violet wasn't sure if she wanted him to yet. Eventually, definitely, but maybe not yet. She resolved that she would try to be open to whatever happened, let him try, and maybe…

"Good night, Violet. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

Before she realized he was leaving, he was gone.

The amount of disappointment in her chest seemed all out of proportion to the ambivalence she'd felt minutes ago, but she still couldn't shake it until she was out of her clothes and in her bed.

In the morning Violet had breakfast with Sloane- Halden and Cam were already holed up in Hal's office, apparently- and decided to get the thing she least wanted to do out of the way as soon as possible.

"What about you, Sloane? Anything planned for today?"

"Packing, mostly. I'm ready to go home." She looked tired. Violet hoped she wouldn't be so eager to leave after a few months, but she was already looking forward to visiting the Archives in a few days.

"Is that why Cam-"

"-Aaric-"

"-Aaric and Halden are meeting?"

"Probably." She shrugged.

"You're aggressively disinterested in anything that has to do with the king," Violet observed. "I know things were different when you got together, Sloane, but… relationships change. Responsibilities change."

Sloane made a face. "Yeah, because you have a lot of experience with relationships and how they change over time."

Violet decided to ignore the implied insult. "Xaden and I had a very… compressed… relationship. We weren't together long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot changed."

"He didn't suddenly turn out to be a prince," she retorted.

"No, just the Duke of Aretia, and if he'd lived he would be the Archduke of Tyrrendor. It's a big jump from a traitor's son." Violet sighed. "Look, I know finding out he wasn't who you thought he was sucks, and I also know the most complicated rank you want your husband to have is that of a Tyrrish officer. But as of right now, he's the crown prince and the King of Navarre's heir apparent, and that gives you three options. One: suck it up and support him in his role; two: get used to staying behind in Tyrrendor while he goes to Calldyr all the fucking time, because Halden needs him; or three: carve an end over your marriage runes."

Sloane glared through the rest of her eggs, but when Violet started to stand, she looked up. "Thank you for saying something, at least. Aaric's been dancing around it trying to keep me happy, and I end up on edge because I don't know what he wants to do."

"You can try telling him you're willing to hear it even if he doesn't think you'll like it, but if you want more than my perspective on it, you should talk to Ridoc. He definitely was not expecting to be an archduchess when they met."

"Assuming Aaric's willing to leave in time to make the spring Council session."

"You could always write to him," Violet pointed out. "Do you want me to give Aaric a come-to-Amari lecture too, or are you confident in handling him?"

"I certainly hope I can handle him at this point."

Violet smiled at her. "Just - handle him like Ridoc, not like Imogen, okay? I'd hate for his bodyguard to have to figure out how to appropriately intervene in a fistfight between the crown prince and his wife."

Sloane actually laughed at that. "Don't worry, I haven't attacked him out of the blue since we graduated. I'd at least get him on a mat first." She mentioned that the gymnasium in the palace complex was where she'd been spending a lot of her time when she was working off frustration, and offered to spend the morning with Violet showing her some of the things she did like about Calldyr.

"I'd like that. The last time I lived here, I wasn't even old enough to go into town on my own."

"Gods, I'm glad I didn't grow up here." Sloane shook her head. Violet pictured the very intentional coziness of Sloane's family home, a sharp contrast to the palace in Calldyr.

In the back of her head she had already started a list of things that might make Sloane more comfortable here, including a remodel of the space she and Cam shared. Most of the things Violet was trying to negotiate for herself, including changing the dinner requirements, would probably help too, and she filed that away for the conversation she was likely going to have with Halden about what concessions might help him win his brother's wife over.

Sloane showed her several nice stops in Calldyr proper, including a cafe she definitely wanted to return to and the toy store where she'd found gifts for Bodhi and Ridoc's children. They also stopped in a few places Violet was curious about, including a bookstore (Sloane rolled her eyes fondly) and the main temple.

Violet had spent some time in the Temple of Amari in Aretia, both during the rebuilding and afterwards. It was becoming one of the jewels of the city now, with colored glass and soaring arches and gardens. This one was not that- newer than the original temple in Aretia, it was built around the time the small city of Calldyr was being recreated as the capital of a continent-spanning kingdom. Like the palace and several other buildings, most of the facade was made of carved white granite that had been brought in from the coast and shaped by stonewielders and masons. It was elegant and traditional, and past the gates she could just make out the large statue of Amari and the figure of Malek beside her.

She was reminded she'd promised to visit Ericure, the priestess of Malek; that would have to wait until she got back from Basgiath, though.

Violet left Sloane at the flight field where the Calldyr riot posted and wished her luck with Aaric.

After she returned to the palace, Violet knew she needed to talk to Caroline, but she didn't particularly want to until she sorted out her feelings on the subject. Instead she asked Sybill to show her to the gymnasium so she could get started on sorting them her favorite way: with daggers.

Sybill set up a few training dummies for her and watched as Violet sheathed a full set of blades in her corset and flight leathers.

"If I might ask," she said with a little bit of a smile, "I'm surprised that number of knives doesn't weigh more than you do."

Violet held one of them out to her. "They're surprisingly lightweight. Partially it's the alloy material that makes them deadly to venin; it weighs less than steel alone. Partially it's because they were designed for me." She still had one of the original ones Xaden had given her, the one imbued with unlocking runes, but she carried it for luck; she never threw it. It lived in the sheath in the small of her back, just where someone might rest a supportive hand on her, and she could reach it easily enough, though she suspected that anyone else might have trouble drawing it.

The others were the same basic design. Garrick had made sure she had a new set before he left in the fall, and insisted on checking them over before she left for Calldyr even though she'd attacked nothing with them but wooden targets.

Sybill held the dagger and marveled at it- the combination of the weight, the small handle and thin blade made it look more decorative than deadly, but she could feel the razor-sharp edge on it.

"They're beautiful."

"I know," Violet agreed, and they talked for a few minutes more about weapons preferences before Violet asked for some privacy. She wanted to think, and Sybill was wonderful but she was also chatty.

Once Sybill had retreated to the far side of the gymnasium to do some boxing or some needlework, Violet hadn't quite caught which, she set to work on her training dummies.

The first set was a warmup, so Violet wasn't particularly focused on her speed so much as ensuring her joints were all in on the activity. Once she felt more comfortable, she retrieved her daggers and re-sheathed them.

Turning back to the the target, Violet closed her eyes and counted to five in her head before throwing three daggers in quick succession. All three made satisfying thunk sounds, so she was confident even before she opened her eyes to confirm that yes, each was embedded in a target's head.

Violet took a dozen or so steps back before closing her eyes and turning around, again grabbing and releasing several daggers rapidly. This time there were two thunks, a clatter and a yelp.

She opened her eyes just before the owner of the yelp managed to school her face back into control- it was Caroline Ashton and Violet forced a breath through her nose. Not the way she'd wanted to re-introduce herself, but she wouldn't lie and say she was bothered by it, either.

They stared awkwardly for a moment.

"Sorrengail."

"Ashton."

"Younger Aetos- Dain said you'd want to speak with me before I accompany you to Basgiath, so I was looking for you."

"That was helpful of him." Violet strode over to retrieve her daggers, starting with the one that had fallen. At no point did she offer Ashton her back.

Not that she thought the woman would try something here, exactly, as it was just hard to let her guard down at all.

"I'm sure you were thrilled to hear it." The woman crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her pose almost cartoonishly casual.

Violet pulled the remaining daggers out of the targets and put all but one of them away. "I'm still not convinced I need protection, exactly, but I understand the necessity of the image."

"I meant me, specifically." She was pretty sure Ashton was grinding her teeth. It was almost funny. "I know he told you about me."

Funny or not, though, it was not a great place to start a working relationship. Violet sighed. "Look, we got off to a bad start-"

"Sorrengail, don't-"

"I don't want this to be harder than it needs to be."

Ashton scoffed. "I'm surprised you're letting me within a mile of you."

Violet strode away from the targets again, this time throwing the dagger in her hand without turning at all. "I'm not scared of you, if that's what you're worried about."

The other woman laughed, the sound closer to hysterical than Violet expected. Sybill was already most of the way across the gym, but Violet shook her head. She would handle this or she would tell Dain to find another rider.

"General Sorrengail, with all due respect, you've killed venin a hundred times more powerful than I'll ever be and you're going to be the queen in a few months. I've already thought of two dozen ways you could destroy me. I'm just hoping you'll get it over with quickly."

"Are you planning to do something that will require me to kill you?" This was not exactly how Violet had imagined the conversation going.

"Hardly. But I don't expect you to be tolerant of my existence, either, no matter what I've done between Basgiath and now."

"What have you been doing?" Natural curiosity won out. "Dain just told me… well, I think he didn't want to make you actually say it. He said you're 'in remission'."

"That's what other people call it. I think it makes them feel better," she said. "But once an addict, always an addict, you know? I've been undergoing treatment since my second year in school. Thanks to a solid support network, I haven't had a relapse. But I'm still a venin."

"What kind of treatment?" She tried to remember what she'd heard about Barlowe being mended, but her second year was a blurry mess of memories, if she'd even heard anything useful.

"Assuming that you still have a dragon willing to bond with you - or a gryphon, I suppose, but that's pretty theoretical in Navarre - the first step is mending the bond so you can draw from your dragon again. Once you've broken it, though, it's never really the same again, so you'll have to get it re-mended every couple of months. And then it's… well, it's not drawing from the earth, one day at a time, for the rest of your life. My life. It really is an addiction, same as someone who struggles with drink or drug, and staying clean is the same path."

"Why didn't it work with Barlowe? I didn't know what exactly was going on with him, but it seemed like Nolon was mending him a lot more often than every couple of months."

She shrugged. "You have to want to stop. The first step is admitting that you have a problem, and he wouldn't. Jack - Barlowe - he liked being venin. He thought he deserved power, a lot of power, and he'd never get as much as he wanted from - from Baide. I - it's an excuse, I know, and it doesn't make what I did right - I just wanted a dragon to notice me, and after I got passed over during Threshing, Ja - Barlowe said he knew a trick. I didn't know what a venin was, not really. They were monsters used to frighten children, they weren't real. I didn't - well. It's an excuse, I shouldn't have done it, Gleann said she liked me anyway so the whole thing was stupid and pointless. I'm lucky she forgave me. Other dragons repudiate their riders who make that kind of mistake and they go crazy, or full venin, or both. Or they die. I'm lucky."

Violet had not expected to come out of the conversation feeling anything like compassion toward Caroline Ashton. There was something about her story that Violet recognized, that part of herself that wanted to take the blame for everything that happened to or around her, as if she would have been able to control everything if she'd just tried harder or been better. The way every explanation was described as an excuse reminded her of dealing with her mother.

"Thank you," she offered. "For explaining it."

She shrugged. "Anyway. I'm sure the last thing you want to deal with is a venin, in recovery or not. General Aetos keeps me here so he can keep an eye on me, but he can find someone more suitable to shadow you in a few days, I'm sure. If you need someone sooner, there are always a few riders coming and going with mail and news and one of them could be temporarily reassigned."

"I've never known a venin who wasn't trying to kill me, so I'm willing to try it."

As she left the gymnasium with Lady Sybill, she kept turning the conversation over in her head. "Tairn? Andarna? Were you listening?"

"I still do not like it." She could feel Tairn's concern.

"But?" Violet prompted.

Andarna bounced into the conversation. "Gleann bared her teeth in defense of her rider! She said Tairn should know she'd back down if her rider was in the wrong."

"I know she'd back down if she thought her rider was in the wrong. That is a different matter."

"It was very exciting!"

"It's certainly been a while since anyone dared," Violet tried not to giggle. "I can see why it would be exciting."

"I offered to fight her as Tairn's Champion, if he felt too old to do it himself."

"Yes, and then I said I would eat you both." Through the bond, she could tell that he had relaxed some. "I am open to reserving judgement for now, if you want to do this. Why do you feel sympathy for her, Silver One?"

Violet thought about the very worst day of her life, of watching her mother die and learning what had happened to Xaden. She remembered how she'd been desperately trying to imbue the wardstone, the temptation she'd felt to draw from the ground. The weeks she spent afterwards, wondering if she had, whether it would have been enough to save Xaden and her mother.

She certainly understood what it was to have one bad day and feel like she'd live the rest of her life in the shadow of it.

She didn't answer Tairn, not exactly, but she knew her thoughts weren't shielded enough to keep the tones of them away from her dragons. Tairn and Andarna both responded with ourpourings of love, the feeling that had anchored her when she couldn't feel anything else, not even her own emotions. She poured her own love and gratitude into the mix and reminded herself that with their support, she could get through anything.