The Imperial flagship departed the demilitarized zone the following morning, and despite Nia's protests, Mòrag accompanied the Emperor. As a result, the Inquisitor's ship was sent off with something like a victory rally. She and Brighid found themselves constantly greeted with hearty congratulations, expressions of gratitude, and chants of "hurrah"—all the way up to the gangplank of the ship. For the sake of the troops, Mòrag pretended to be completely healthy and ready to fight again if need be; but through the ether, Brighid could tell that the walk through the crowd had drained her completely. So when they were behind the closed doors of Niall's private council chamber within the airship, Brighid practically forced her into a chair. Or maybe it was more like catching her with a chair.

The young Emperor was visibly concerned. Nia briefed him on the Inquisitor's condition, but knowing about it and seeing her practically collapse after a mere hour on her feet worried him. "Should you go lie down, Mòrag? This ship is outfitted with a small imperial suite. You are more than welcome to use it."

"I'm fine," she insisted, trying—and failing—to mask the breathlessness of her voice. "But, if you don't mind, I think I'll leave the bodyguarding to Aegaeon and Brighid today."

Aegaeon tensed at the mention of his name, and then he gave a tense nod, understanding the request his Driver hadn't voiced: extra vigilance on his part.

"Mòrag, thank you for your incredible service to our country. But please don't ask me to put you in such jeopardy again. I was very worried about you. I still am, in fact. You look worn down."

"I'll be just fine soon. Nia says I need just a few more days to recover my strength. I'll be well by the time we have the official peace talks with Uraya. They are in two weeks, correct?"

Niall nodded. "...I want the peace to be permanent this time. I don't intend to make many demands. In fact, I have an idea that might placate Uraya completely. Might I share it with you? I've not yet discussed it with my council. I'd like your opinion."

"Of course."

"...I know Gormott is somewhat dear to you. How would you feel if it was no longer part of the Empire?"

"What do you mean?"

"From the moment we reached Elysium, I've entertained the notion of granting Gormott its independence—gradually, of course, to help them make the transition into self-governance smoothly. I suppose you could call it part of my five-year plan. I always intended to do it after I came of age. However, given Uraya's concerns, it might be wise to accelerate that plan."

Mòrag's arms slid into a folded position as she considered his proposition. In another four months, he'd be fifteen. For him to have a plan that was more than a third of his current life—too many people underestimated how good an Emperor he'd be when he wouldn't require the approval of his council to make decisions. But given recent events, the council might be willing to consider it. With so much new land to guard in the motherland, the Empire was hard-pressed to protect and govern its province, but her governors (excluding the Emperor) were still loath to admit that fact.

"It would certainly put Uraya more at ease. But my concern would be Brionac."

"If it came to that, I could overrule them by decree. After all, our rationale for taking Gormott in the first place was that we needed the land and resources she offered. But that's no longer the case. So I see no reason for us to maintain our hold on that country any longer than need be. Then Uraya would not be so concerned by our new alliance with Tantal...assuming that alliance will remain intact."

She looked up at him and read the question in his eyes. He was getting so good at asking questions without really saying anything; it was almost infuriating. But of course he would ask about that.

"I have to ask, sister," Niall added, noticing the discomfort his remark caused. "I strive to respect your own personal autonomy in your relationship with Zeke, but a good portion of the army knows that you two fought yesterday. No one seems to know what you fought about, but they're certainly talking about the fact that he departed for Tantal right away afterwards. Do I need to be concerned?"

"There's no cause for concern, Niall," she replied. "He's gone to help his father with some bandit raids. It's only a temporary visit. He's coming back."

The last bit was more an assurance for herself than for Niall. Last night, she hadn't slept well. Every time she lazily turned over to put an arm around him, he wasn't there. And then she remembered why, and she'd been unable to fall back asleep. She'd even grabbed his pillow and draped her arm across it in hopes that she could fool her subconscious into thinking he was still with her. But nothing could adequately replace the warmth that normally occupied the space beside her. Now, in the bright light of day, it seemed silly to require his presence to sleep; the Special Inquisitor did not need a teddy bear. And she'd spent most of her adult life sleeping alone; she ought to know how to simply close her eyes and sleep with the whole bed to herself. But she didn't remember it ever feeling so...empty.

Deep down, she chided herself for letting him leave.

She also couldn't shake the fear that he might not come back. For any number of reasons—some rational, plenty of them not so rational. She certainly hadn't given him much reason to stay, had she? And he was going to be alone with Pandoria for several days now. He might realize that life alongside his Blade was so much simpler, so much easier. And in her moodier moments, Mòrag wondered if Zeke and Pandoria might slip back into their "pre-platonic" phase of their relationship. After all, they'd be alone, and judging by their last conversation, Zeke was feeling a bit needy—or at least she thought he might be. It would be so easy for him to indulge that way; there'd be no consequences with a Blade. Then he definitely wouldn't come back to her, Mòrag thought. But she couldn't exactly fault him for it, could she?

No, he wouldn't do that. Would he? The vague possibility that he might do so made her want to march up to Tantal personally. Architect, the thought that she was jealous of Pandoria...No. Zeke said he loved her just yesterday. That wouldn't change in the span of a week. He would come back. Trust worked in that arena, too.

You know, you're only jealous of Pandoria because you want him for yourself.

There it was again—the second voice. Or was it simply her own thoughts? She wasn't really sure anymore. Either way, this kinder, hungrier second voice had been surfacing much more frequently as of late, silencing the harsh one. Her presence was a welcome change.

M-maybe I do. But if I can't say something as simple as 'I love you,' I can't very well do that.

"Mòrag?"

Oh, she let her attention wander. Niall wasn't finished conversing. "Apologies. What did you say?"

Niall shook his head. "You tell me you're fine, but your inability to focus this morning has me wondering if I should place you on obligatory leave. I simply asked if you'd be willing to elaborate a little about why you two fought."

"It's not like you to pry," she commented. This was a question she had to dodge.

"I won't force you to. But if you'd like a sympathetic ear or advice, I do want to help."

His eyes were sincere, earnest. In that moment she remembered how much she adored blue eyes—even envied them as a child. And now there were two sets of blue eyes she cared about more than anything. Well, one set and then another partial set in a slightly different shade of blue.

She forced out a laugh. "Forgive my bluntness, but you are a king. Not a marriage counselor. And I'd rather not discuss it."

His lips turned into a tiny, momentary pout. But it vanished quickly. "You laugh a lot more when he's around, you know."

"Do I?"

"Even Aegaeon has noted as much...Perhaps now that things have settled down with Uraya, you two will have more time to dedicate to your relationship. Trying to navigate a new marriage with everything that's been going on—I can't imagine how challenging that must have been."

Oh, you have no idea.

"It will be nice to have life calm down a bit," she replied simply. "...On second thought, I might just utilize your quarters. I expect we'll have quite the reception when we return. A nap might be in order."

"That was a stupid move, even for you." Pandoria twirled the end of her tail mindlessly. She was visibly disturbed that they had to wait on Eulogimenos yet again.

"For the last time, I know," Zeke replied. He was annoyed that she was bringing this up again. They were all annoyed, really.

"She nearly died and you picked then of all times to fight with her? Seriously, dude. Dumb move."

"I was emotional, so I wasn't thinking straight. I apologized. Now please stop nagging me about it."

It had been a long week. Two days had been spent getting to Theosoir, only to learn that Eulogimenos had done something extremely out of character and gone to help with the border skirmishes personally. Yes, the king was technically a Driver, but he hadn't dabbled in combat in years. It was something they quarrelled over frequently since reuniting after the Malos incident. Zeke had scolded him for hiding behind his royal guard and letting them do all the dirty work; he believed a king should fight alongside his people when possible, leading by example. Eulogimenos insisted that a king ought to be kept safe, to avoid throwing the country into chaos should the sovereign die in battle and leading from afar. They'd never seen eye to eye on that issue. But maybe now, Tantal's king was budging just a smidge. Or maybe he just didn't trust his soldiers to handle the task adequately. After all, until a year ago, Tantal's borders hadn't needed much protection; thousands of peds of Cloud Sea made for a great barrier. Just as Mor Ardain and Uraya were still struggling to defend their borders—albeit from each other—Tantal was, too. But bandits seemed inconsequential compared to an opposing country.

Still, for Eulogimenos to go out of his way to handle something at the border...it was unique. Zeke had never actually fought alongside his father. But for several days, they'd been roaming the wastes along the Mor Ardain-Tantal border, tracking down and routing bandit bands. They bandits themselves weren't particularly strong, but there were enough of them to cause problems.

Each evening, Eulogimenos arranged for them to eat dinner together when their little entourage made camp. But inevitably, they always had to wait on him for one reason or another. And whenever that happened, Pandoria seemed to adore reminding her Driver that he'd opened his big mouth and stuck his foot in it.

And to make matters worse, he'd up and left right afterwards.

At the time, giving Mòrag some space had seemed like the right idea. Maybe he needed some time away to cool down, too—after all, he might have to reconcile himself with the possibility that she would choose politics and duty. But two days after they got to Tantal he'd realized that it had been stupid to leave. Mòrag had nearly died, and he left mere hours after she woke up—what kind of message did that send? A friend would have stayed at her side. A potential lover ought to have done ten times more than that. He, however, had made a fool of himself and ran off with the excuse that his dad needed help; he'd been too scared to face the potential rejection.

If not for his promise to his father, he would have rushed straight back to Alba Cavanich. Because now the distance between them ached.

"Prince? The king is ready for you."

It was no kingly banquet, but it was kind of nice to sit and chew cold meat, cheese, and bread with his father. Slowly but surely, Elysium was changing the standoffish king. Eulogimenos was here, taking a proactive response to a threat for once. And he was more open to opinions that contradicted his own, and Zeke actually enjoyed discussing things with the king for once instead of all-out arguing with him. Maybe he should visit more often.

Some things, however, had not changed about Eulogimenos. Like any parent to an adult child, he still found ways to overstep his bounds.

"So while you're here, do you have any news for me?" the king asked once they'd finished eating.

"What?"

"Is there anything exciting you want to tell me?"

Pandoria snickered beside him, cluing him into the fact that he was missing the question his father was actually asking. Typical. But not entirely unexpected.

"No, dad. She's not pregnant." He failed to mask his annoyance.

"It's been what, four months since your wedding? Have you been using the potion I gave you?"

"Dad!"

This one came out as a frustrated yell. Yes, an heir was the expectation behind the marriage, but even couples unhindered by a past like Mòrag's could struggle conceiving. To be nagged about it constantly was awkward and unwanted—notwithstanding the fact that it was a line they hadn't crossed yet. But he couldn't possibly explain why to his father.

"Cut it out," he said, forcing himself to speak more calmly. "Keep your nose out of our sex life." Or lack thereof, he thought to himself, simultaneously proud of his self-control and undeniably disappointed that he still needed it. "I don't care that you're king and that our kid will be an heir to your throne. You don't have the right to pry."

The king stiffened at the harsh reaction, then shook his head guiltily. "I'm sorry, son. I...I was merely thinking of your mother. She would have loved to watch you become a parent. She would have loved to watch your wedding, too. When I think of all that she missed, I-I forget myself."

For all his faults, Eulogimenos never could hide his true feelings around his son. Around counselors and Indoline agents, sure. But when he was with family, his face was a dead giveaway for what he was feeling. And now, Zeke could see the genuine apology and sadness in his eyes.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked like that.

"I know, Dad. I miss her, too," he sighed. His fingers traced the scars on his wrists, and for a moment, they seemed to sting all over again. "...Do you think Mom would have liked Mòrag?"

"The first time I met Lady Mòrag, she looked me dead in the face and warned me that her country could declare war over one of the most foolish things I've ever done. She has a fire in her eyes that can't be denied. Eugenie would have loved her simply for having the fortitude to stand up to me," the king explained.

"Mom always did know how to put you in your place." Zeke managed a small laugh.

Eulogimenos responded with a rare half-smile. And then he descended into his own memories for a moment. "I met her on a salvage run, of all things. She and I were both diving in the Cloud Sea looking for an Orbital Skyreader. I must have looked like such a fool, covered in muck from the cloud depths. But she was...radiant. Heh, we were hardly more than kids at the time, both of us shirking our duties for some fun."

"And to think you used to get mad at me for skipping out on my lessons to go exploring," Zeke added. "You know, the first time Mòrag and I actually met in person, I made a fool of myself, too. Tripped over a barrier and fell into the Cloud Sea. So in a way, you could say that we both met our wives in the sea. Kinda weird, eh?"

"Indeed."

"...Look Dad, when the day comes that Mòrag is pregnant—if that day comes—you'll be one of the first people to know. Okay? But don't rush us in the meantime."

"As you wish."

"And whenever that happens, keep in mind that you'll be the only grandparent my kid has. Don't you dare screw that up."

"I didn't do such a good job as a parent. What makes you think I can do a good job as a grandparent?"

There was Eulogimenos's very unkingly pout again.

"Because when it comes to the people we love, there's always a second chance," Zeke said quietly. "Mistakes can be forgiven. You can fix something when you mess it up."

The last bit was more a reminder to himself than to his father, he realized. Because it was time to fix his own mistake.

It was time to go home.

"Mòrag! Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Of course she did. She could see all the light streaming through the windows; she'd been awake for hours. She simply didn't feel like getting up.

"It's not that late. And I'm supposed to be resting, remember?"

Brighid scowled. "Nia cleared you to ease back into training again yesterday. She said your energy levels are almost completely back to normal."

Mòrag gave an annoyed hum in response.

"Now you're just pouting, Mòrag, and it's very unbecoming of you."

"I'm not pouting."

Brighid gave a glare with eyes halfway open that clearly scolded her: Don't you dare try and contradict me when I can see right through you.

"Then why aren't you up and about? I expected you to jump right back into a workout the second Nia let you. And I know you've seen the paperwork on your desk. The pile is taller than it's ever been, and yet you haven't touched it."

All right, so maybe she was pouting. A little. Over the course of the last week, she'd spent more time sleeping than she had in years, receiving ether transfusions from Nia in the morning and evening, and otherwise recovering. By the fourth day she felt well enough to resume work without issue, but it felt like she was going through the motions. Her usual drive just wasn't there—primarily because she kept getting distracted. Distracted by Zeke's request, of course, but deciding where she stood on that issue kept leading her back to one very embarrassing question. But one that she really wanted the answer to.

Who to ask, though? Should she even ask someone else? Pyra might be a good option, but with Rex constantly trailing her like a lost puppy dog, a private conversation would be tricky.

Brighid was still talking. "Mòrag, pull yourself together. He's coming back. Give him a few more days."

She sat up, hoping Brighid hadn't noticed the pillow she'd been clinging to like a stuffed animal. It still smelled like him. Barely.

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I'm pathetic," she whispered, ignoring her Blade's protest at her choice of words. "It took nearly dying, fighting with him, and then him leaving for me to realize how I feel. For me to realize what I want. That's pathetic."

Brighid took a seat on the corner of the bed. "I expected you'd be angry at him for what he said."

"I thought I would be, but I'm not. Half of the things he was upset about were only because he loves me and he wants that returned. I can't fault him for that. No, I think I'm really angry at myself."

Her Blade's eyebrows raised in another silent question.

"I'm angry at myself because the best thing that's happened to me in a long time looked at me and asked me to acknowledge him and what did I do? I hid. I used what happened to me over a decade ago as an excuse not to say how I feel in return."

"If that's an excuse, it's a valid one, Mòrag."

"Maybe it used to be. But...I fell in love with Niall in spite of the abuse that caused his birth. If I can do that, then there's no good reason I can't love a man whose only real vice is his bad luck. Except I'm still clinging to the memories of what Pachnall did to me. And I can't hold onto both Zeke and those memories. There isn't room for both. One has to push out the other. And in that moment, when Zeke asked me to tell him how I feel, I chose the wrong thing. That was a mistake."

Brighid gave her knee a reassuring pat. "At least it's a mistake you can correct. But not by hiding in your room. Tell me, when he does get back: how do you want him to find you? Looking alive, well, and happy to see him? Or in here, moping like a disheveled child?"

Architect, sometimes it was annoying that Brighid knew exactly which buttons to press to motivate her. She clambered out of bed and pulled a uniform from the closet.

"That's more like it," Brighid commented approvingly. "Pyra's making lunch for everyone. It should be ready by noon. Get yourself presentable and join us, all right?"

Pyra was cooking. Maybe she'd be alone in the palace kitchens. Rex and Tora tended to get into Architect-knew-what sort of mischief while the Aegis cooked, so he probably wouldn't be breathing down her neck. That thought was a bit more motivating than lunch with the others. She gave her Blade a simple nod. And once Brighid was gone, she dressed in a hurry and made a beeline for the kitchens.

With the Fire Dragons back in Alba Cavanich for next week's summit with Uraya, the kitchens were almost completely empty. The Ardainian palace chefs knew better than to try and cook alongside the Tirkin. And since the bird-cooks were far more efficient, they had finished cooking their own dishes long ago, which left Pyra alone to work her magic.

Despite her earlier resolve, Mòrag found herself hesitating, half-hiding behind a stove. Of all the things she could want to ask the Aegis about, she just had to go and pick this one. What if Mythra emerged halfway through the conversation and punched her for asking? Pyra would probably be agreeable, but the blond Aegis could certainly be more "touchy," as Rex put it.

But as Pyra or Mythra, the Aegis was probably the best person to ask.

"Mòrag! You startled me! I didn't see you there."

"S-sorry. I didn't intend to sneak up on you."

Pyra gave one of her sweet smiles. "It's your palace, so I guess you can go wherever you want, right? Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. Um—"

"Lunch is in about an hour. I bet you're hungry since you missed breakfast this morning, right?"

She nodded, frantically racking her brain for a good excuse to stay in the kitchen a while longer. "I can help, if you like," she volunteered weakly.

Pyra's eyebrows shot up and she seemed to reflexively pull the pot of stock—the aroma smelled like Tricolor Bowl, Mòrag noted—a bit further away from the Inquisitor. Then she realized what she'd done and shoved it back to its place on the burner.

"I guess you could help chop the produce," Pyra suggested, using her spoon to point to the small mountain of wasabi, carrots, raspberries, and passion fruits. "I-I'll do the salmon, though. I know you don't like chopping things with eyeballs still in them."

Mòrag managed a laugh. "I don't mind chopping eyed creatures with a sword in a fight. But something about food with eyes—that's different, for some reason."

"You're cut out for killing things, not gutting them. Subtle difference," she noted. "Would you start on the carrots first? Those have to roast the longest."

Morad nodded and set to work on the spindly orange roots. Hopefully Pyra wouldn't notice the way her fingers quivered on the handle of the knife. She needed to find a way to start the conversation. Or should she just burst out and ask? At least she was dealing with Pyra, not Mythra. Pyra would be much gentler about it, even if she asked abruptly. But there was always the chance that Mythra would take over. Then they'd have to explain how they managed to set the palace kitchens on fire.

No, it would be better to ease into it gradually.

"There's a lot of them," she commented as she sliced into five carrots at once. At least she couldn't screw up chopping motionless produce. "Are there always this many?"

"Every time. But I'm pretty quick at chopping, so it usually doesn't take too long. It's just that Rex is still eating a ton. He's going through another growth spurt, I think. I can't seem to put enough food on his plate these days."

"He's taller than you now."

Pyra giggled. "Yeah. It's odd. Technically, he's an adult now. At least by legal standards. But he's still growing."

"That's not uncommon. We frequently have to issue new uniforms for our young adult recruits because they outgrow them, especially if they enlist at sixteen."

Ugh, already her mind had jumped to work. She was never going to find a good transition to the question burning in the depths of her gut if she talked about the army of all things.

Thankfully, Pyra kept the topic on Rex. Good. "Whether he's growing or not, he certainly eats a lot. I have to make like three times as much for him. There'd be even more if Zeke and Pandoria were here." Then the Aegis stopped short. "Wait. You're not actually here to ask me to teach you to cook, are you? So you can make something for him?"

Mòrag hoped Pyra couldn't see her spine stiffen at the thought of something so domestic. And so pointless. She was hopeless in the kitchen, and she had no intention of changing that.

"Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"Because doing things for people is the way you express affection for them," Pyra answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"R-really?"

The Aegis nodded and joined her at the cutting board to tackle the wasabi. Her knife moved twice as fast as Mòrag's. "You take on extra work to help the Emperor so he can have a little downtime here and there. You always help me clean up after dinner when we're traveling together. You keep an eye out for little Ardainian Bear Carvings for Nia when we're at a market. You help Rex train, even if you've already completed your training for the day. You make sure Tora has those tasty sausages, even though you've given him more than a year's supply already. And I could go on and on about the things you do for Brighid. You might not say it out loud, but you show that you care about us by the things you do. So it makes sense that you might want to do something for Zeke. But my advice, Mòrag? Don't pick cooking. It's not you. And you should always be yourself."

"I'm not here for cooking lessons," she replied flatly.

"Then why are you here? Not that I'm complaining, but you've never volunteered to help me with cooking before."

Mòrag bit back the excuse she was tempted to throw out. Outwardly, Pyra might look warm, gentle, and innocent, but she was impossible to fool. At least she wouldn't have to search for a natural transition into what she really wanted to ask the Aegis.

"I-I wanted a chance to speak with you alone. But with Rex and the others around constantly, this seemed like the only way to talk without drawing attention," Mòrag explained. Now there was no going back.

"Well if you're hoping for a heart-to-heart with the Aegis, then you've got your chance now." For a moment, Pyra sounded like Mythra.

Oh, please don't switch over. Asking Pyra will be hard enough.

Mercifully, there was no burst of ether. The redhead stayed put. "What's on your mind, then?" she asked sweetly.

"Could I ask a rather, um, you see, I want to ask a really personal question."

"It must be really personal if you're going red just thinking about it. You can ask me anything; you know that. But first, how about you stop chopping? You're going to lose a finger at this rate."

I can't believe I'm doing this. It's totally inappropriate. And yet she needed to ask. She dropped the knife onto the cutting board and let her hands clench into uncomfortable fists behind her back.

"Now, what's up?"

"Um, how did you know when it was time to, well what I'm trying to say is...how did you know you were ready to sleep with Rex for the first time?"

The question itself came rushing out in an agonized burst of nearly incomprehensible words. But Pyra's face clearly showed that she'd understood them.

"Wow. You weren't kidding about the whole personal bit. I had a list of things I thought you might ask, and that definitely wasn't on it," the Aegis smiled, blushing a tad. She stopped chopping, too. "So you and Zeke haven't been intimate yet? I thought for sure you had."

"We tried on our wedding night. But I...I chickened out. I wasn't ready. And since then I've been scared to try again."

"And you think you might be ready now?"

"I'm not sure. Hence the personal question."

"Well, it's not something you can just put a definition on. There's no textbook for it. It's almost instinctive, really. But I think the fact that you're asking means you might be ready. You're not the sort of person to talk about this casually, so I know you're at least thinking about it. And you probably have been for a while." Pyra hesitated, searching for the right words. "The first time can feel like a risk. I won't try to tell you otherwise. It's not like the no-strings-attached one-night stand stuff they put in books these days. When it's sex with someone so important to you, with someone you truly care about, well...it takes your relationship to a different level. It changes things. It takes a lot of vulnerability to let yourself be open to a change like that. I know vulnerability isn't easy for you. But I promise you, that risk is so worth it."

Mòrag nodded, recalling how confused she'd felt in the shower with him over a week ago. It had been nice, but she couldn't bring herself to act on her urges. And then there were those silly feelings of jealousy towards Pandoria. Surely those were related. "Isn't there some way to be sure I'm ready?"

"You trust him, right?"

Trust. There was that word again. It just kept coming back. At least this time she knew the answer.

"Of course."

"But how much do you trust him?"

"With my life. But I'm not sure why that applies."

"If you can trust him with your life, don't you think it's okay to trust him with your body, too? With your heart?"

"...Perhaps."

"For you, that's totally a yes," Pyra pointed out. "So when he gets back, go to him. See what happens. If you're ready, believe me, you'll know. And if you are, just do what feels right."

"...Thanks, Pyra." She took a deep breath, very grateful that Mythra had stayed in the background the whole time. "Just please keep this conversation between us."

The Aegis gave a single resolute nod and returned to the task of chopping up the vegetables. Mòrag joined her. Now that the awkward part of the conversation was over, the knife wasn't shaking so badly.

"If you don't mind my asking, why'd you ask me this?" Pyra asked. "I don't mind, of course. It just seems like the kind of thing you'd talk about with Brighid. That's all."

"Brighid and I don't really talk about this sort of thing."

"Why not?"

She paused. Astute as she was, maybe Pyra suspected the real reason. But Mòrag couldn't bring herself to outright confirm or deny those suspicions. Come to think of it, she didn't even know if Brighid had any romantic inclinations—not in this lifetime or past ones. Suddenly Mòrag felt guilty. Surely a Driver should know such a thing about her Blade.

"Um, well, neither of us has much experience in these matters. Until now, I've always been so focused on my work, and Brighid is fiercely loyal to me. So here we are. You seemed better equipped to give advice about such a thing."

"Someone as gorgeous as Brighid? Surely she has people fawning over her. If not in this lifetime, at least in past ones. She could probably consult her journals."

"If she's ever been interested in anyone past or present, she's not told me. That's all."

Pyra nodded. "Well, I'm always glad to help. If you've got any other questions, or if you ever need advice or just a sympathetic ear, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks."

"Right then! I'm about to cut the salmon. If you don't want to see fish eyes staring back at you, you might want to go tell the others that dinner will be ready in half an hour."

To Mòrag's relief, Pyra never breathed a word of that conversation to anyone; not even her expression betrayed it. When they brought the food out to the others—Mòrag stayed in the kitchens with the Aegis the entire time for the company, not the cooking observation—no one could tell a thing. Their only remarks were that it was good to see Mòrag up and about again.

All of Hardhaigh Palace shared that sentiment, in fact. For the Inquisitor to be at Alba Cavanich but not inside her office was practically unheard of. So when she returned, more to force herself through the paperwork than anything else, the palace itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Over the next few days, Mòrag found herself being greeted, thanked, and congratulated by nearly every staffer and soldier she encountered. But it was never the voice she wanted to hear.

There'd been no news, no messages, no reports. That in itself wasn't too worrying; Zeke had never been good at long-distance communications, not even when their relationship was nothing more than two dignitaries for countries that shared a border. But still, a little anxiety stuck in her gut whenever she caught a glance of her dormant ethercom. Or when no written messages got dropped in her office mailbox. More than once, she sat down to write a letter to send to him instead. And more than once, she crumpled it up and threw it in the wastebasket. The truth needed to be said, but...it needed to be said, not written. And it needed to be said to his face.

Day nine. Ten. Eleven. Twe—

The whole palace seemed to shake as the great front doors were flung open. The metal comprising each one flickered with sparks of electricity. The lights in the hall flickered just as much.

Mòrag stopped short. She and Brighid were just finishing their midday rounds with paperwork in hand and Rex, Pyra, and Nia in tow (Rex, as usual, wanted a spar, and his two Blades came along to ensure that the eager salvager didn't try to rope Mòrag into teaching him her ether shield technique). For someone to get into the palace without being stopped by the guards, and to call so much attention to themselves—

Or rather, himself. Well, technically themselves, but Mòrag only cared about the figure in front.

Zeke and Pandoria had already launched into announcing their presence with some strange new choreography. They must have developed it while they were away. Architect, it was probably the dumbest one yet. Most Ardainians in the vicinity didn't even pay any attention; they'd long since grown bored of the Driver and Blade's antics. Only his companions were watching, really.

"Zeke!"

Her outburst, unlike his dance, gained plenty of Ardainian attention; it was an oddly high-pitched sound, almost giddy. It had slipped out of her throat before she could stop it. But she didn't care. Zeke was back, just a few peds away.

But even those dozen peds or so suddenly seemed like too great a distance. She broke into a run. For once, it didn't matter how many people were watching. The paperwork she held fluttered to the ground as she raced to his side and flung her arms around him. He took a several steps back, startled, then returned the embrace. She took a deep breath, soaking in his scent, his warmth, his hair brushing against her cheek. Everything else fell away—nothing could distract her from that hug. Not the sounds of Pandoria, Rex, and Nia all chatting up a storm already. Certainly not the fact that she was breaking half a dozen rules of etiquette by pouncing on him like this.

"Looks like someone's happy to see me."

"I missed you," she admitted, whispering so the others wouldn't overhear.

"Oof, Flames, you're going to squeeze the stuffing out of me," he laughed.

She only slightly loosened her hold on him. Architect, it felt good to hear him laugh again. "I'm so glad you're back."

"It's good to be back. Um, did something happen while I was gone? You're acting a bit strange."

She shook her head. "No, everything's been fine. I just—I never should have let you leave in the first place. I should have asked you to stay."

"I never should have left," he admitted in return, a mix of relief and regret crossing his expression. "I'm sorry I did. I shouldn't have fought with you, either. How can I make it up to you?"

"You don't need to. Because you were right. I was holding you at arm's length and not being honest with you, and I'm so sorry I did. You asked me to make a decision about us, and I should have made my choice then and there."

"And what about now? Have you decided?"

Yes, she had. The palace entryway, however, was not where she envisioned this conversation taking place. But his presence alone had sucked the words out of her. Somewhere, anywhere a little more private would suffice. Even just around the corner. She pulled him into the nearest hallway, resisting the urge to smother him in kisses now that they were out of the line of the others' sight. No, kisses could come later. He needed to hear her say it. She needed to hear herself say it.

"I...I did a lot of thinking while you were away. I-I think I understand now. I had it backwards. I always thought that I wouldn't be able to love someone until I healed from everything that happened to me. Until I wasn't a broken mess of a person anymore. But if you can love me in spite of that mess, then...maybe love is the healing I've been looking for all along."

"W-what are you saying?"

"I'm still not very good at this whole relationship thing. I need to be better about telling you how I'm feeling, and considering your feelings, too. I want to be better at it. And starting now, I will be."

She took a deep breath. She'd spent all week rehearsing what to say to him. Diplomacy was something she'd been trained to talk her way through. But no training had ever prepared her for this. So she wrote a mental script in her head, hoping that somehow her words could do this justice.

"So here goes: after all that happened when I was younger, I built a lot of stupid walls because I was hell-bent on keeping myself from getting hurt again. And it worked. But I also shut myself off from a lot of good things, too. Love included. Then you came along and started climbing the walls I'd built. You wormed your way into my heart somehow—I still don't quite know how you did it—and that scared me, so I tried to shut you out. But this messy stronghold that is my heart, well, it's not the same without you in it."

Oh, no. That wasn't in the script. She was rambling now. What had she intended to say next?

"Um, my heart, my life...it's safer when you're there, somehow. Maybe that's because an ally is better protection for a heart than walls. Ugh, I'm no good with this. I'm talking like a soldier again. Military metaphors—I'm not making any sense, am I?"

He gave an encouraging smile. "I read you. Keep going."

"Last week, before you left...I wanted to tell you how I felt. But I was scared to. I said it was because of him, but deep down there was another reason. You see, having you in my life, having your love—it's an absolute dream. I was scared that your love was too good to be true. And I guess I thought that if I said my feelings out loud, I'd ruin that dream. I didn't want to wake up. So I hid behind my walls. But I know now that I don't want the walls anymore. I don't want a halfway relationship, either. I just want you. I—"

There's no going back from this. If you open your mouth to finish that sentence, I can't protect you anymore. I won't protect you anymore. It's him or me. The voice didn't sound harsh this time. Merely resigned.

Today, contradicting her was as easy as breathing. I don't need protecting now. I don't need you.

"—I love you, Zeke."

He grinned as the last bit of tension released from his shoulders. "I love you, too, Flames."

For the longest time, his kisses had been warm and reassuring. But now his lips felt like home. And she wanted to stay forever.

So give him a reason to stay. Make him. Shove him against a wall and make it so you're the only thing he can think about. The other voice this time. No, that was her own voice. Now she felt sure of that.

She yanked him closer so his body was tight against her own. The motion made him gasp. Her tongue took advantage of that opening in his lips, mingling with his. Never before had she kissed anyone so aggressively, so hungrily. But that simple taste whetted an appetite she'd long kept buried. Her kisses trailed down his neck, nibbling at the small leather choker there, only to return to his mouth again. The warmth there—no, the heat, really—felt magnetic. And the weak little moan he made only fanned the flame. If not for the fact that they were still in a fairly open corridor, drawing the stares of every passing servant, she might not have let him go.

"So...what now?" Zeke asked. The kiss had left him breathless.

Mòrag's skin felt like it was on fire, set ablaze by that primal embrace. Acting on that impulse was easy; talking about it proved harder. "Well," she began sheepishly, "we do have some unfinished business to attend to."

Zeke threw back his head in annoyance. "Mòrag, why is it always all business with you? Lighten up."

She hesitated, expecting to hear the old voice telling her to brush this off as an eager reunion and walk away. But it was gone. Not just silent—gone. Absent. Banished by her own unequivocal confession. All that remained was herself: her instincts, her hopes, her choices, her desires. She listened to them, tracing little circles on his exposed chest. No, this wasn't enough.

Pyra was right.

"Well, I was thinking, if we...got back to work on that heir, perhaps we could mix business and pleasure."

Zeke's eyes widened as her sentence finally sunk in. "Mòrag, do you mean…?" His voice trailed off.

"I-I'm feeling very brave today, I think. I don't know if I'm actually ready yet, but I want to try again. If you're willing, that is."

"Of course. But are you sure? After what happened last time—"

"I didn't completely trust you then. I didn't love you, either. Maybe now that I do, I'll be able to. Or maybe I won't. But there's only one way to know for sure. A-and I want to know."

Zeke couldn't help but stare at her for a minute. The look on her face was so earnest yet endearingly vulnerable. She was cute like this. And it was all he could do to resist the urge to scoop her up and carry her upstairs as fast as his feet would take them. She hated being carried, and he was not about to ruin her mood by upsetting her. And with Rex, Pyra, Pandoria, Brighid, and Nia all catching up across the hall, it would definitely cause a scene.

He smiled. "Then let's sneak out of here, shall we? Last one to the room's a rotten egg."