The sun was low on the horizon as they tumbled out of the portal and into the garden. In front of them was a white marble fountain and a swaying willow tree whose vines trailed in the water. They were out of the palace, but not the grounds. Julian wasn't safe yet.

"Are you all right?" he asked, turning to Marena.

"Yes," she replied. "Julian, your wig…"

He touched his bare head, then looked around. But there was no sign of the blond wig he had been wearing when he entered the portal. "It can't be helped," he said, pressing his lips together in a thin line. "I don't suppose you have any magic that could hide me from the guards?"

Her face fell. "I can't use magic anymore."

Julian stared at her. "But you're a magician. How can you be a magician and not use magic?"

"I—It's a long story." She looked miserable and uncertain, wringing her hands. "If we have no choice, I'll do whatever I must to help you. But I made a promise that I wouldn't use any magic for the next few days, and I intend to keep it. So if you have any ideas…"

"I do," he reassured her. "There's a cottage somewhere in these gardens. The guards don't come around there."

But he couldn't remember how to get back to Portia's cottage, and guards were posted at all the exits. So Julian set off down a random path leading away from the Palace. Marena followed along beside him, her hand occasionally brushing against his. He kept his pace slow enough for her to keep up, telling himself that running would draw too much attention.

After a few minutes walking, they heard footsteps approaching. Both halted, preparing to face whoever it was…

"There you are!" Portia exclaimed, barreling through the undergrowth. "Whew, I wasn't sure I'd find you."

"Pasha!" Julian blurted, then quickly lowered his voice. "You're alright!"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Portia asked, bewildered. "We're not all fugitives on the run from the law, Ilya." Turning to Marena, she clasped her hands in front of her, smiling shyly. "Your handsome magician friend, Asra, came and helped me out!"

Marena seemed to tense up at the mention of Asra. Now that Julian had a chance to stop and think about it, the magician's intervention on their behalf seemed rather… strange. After all, why did he care whether or not Julian was caught?

"Oh boy, it was a shock when he arrived!" Portia continued. "I didn't know what I was going to do, and then poof! There he was." She winked. "You magic types are really amazing. How did he know how to find us? Last I checked, he wasn't even in the same wing of the palace."

"He has friends on the other side," Marena answered, averting her gaze and rubbing the back of her neck.

"Anyways." Portia cleared her throat, rested a hand on her hip, and looked pensive. "It's really not safe to keep moving, not until the guards change shifts later tonight. Come on, I'll take you to my cottage. Guards don't come around there."

"So I've heard," Marena glanced toward Julian with a faint smile.

"Right," Julian muttered. "In fact, we were headed in that direction…"

"Actually, it's that way." Portia pointed behind Julian. "Did you already forget how to get there?"

"Of course not. How could I forget the way to my own sister's home?"

Portia simply rolled her eyes. "Come on, it's getting late."

By the time they reached the cottage it was dark. Fireflies glowed softly in the garden, echoing the twinkling stars in the sky above.

Julian sat stiffly on a log just outside, positioning himself near a tall tree so that it would provide him with some cover. Arguably a foolish precaution, given what Portia had said about the guards avoiding this area, but it helped to soothe his lingering paranoia. He had changed out of the servant's uniform and back into his usual attire, and seemed to have finally stopped trembling.

Marena sat next to him, her posture much more relaxed. Every now and then he would catch her looking at him, though she would quickly turn away.

The door to the cottage was slightly ajar. Inside he could hear the bustle of Portia in her kitchen, glasses clinking and metal scraping against pans. They would be having dinner soon. Julian would eventually sneak out of the palace grounds, while Marena would return to the palace, using the excuse Asra had invented for her that she'd been sent back to the shop to collect ingredients.

"With how long she's taking, Portia must be cooking a feast for us," he said, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. The remark earned a smile from Marena, but she didn't say anything.

"I, uh…" he began, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "...I didn't expect Asra to help me escape."

"That surprised me too," Marena murmured. "I was under the impression that he didn't like you very much."

"We, uh. We have a history, he and I…"

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well, we had a falling out." Julian cleared his throat, stalling for time as he searched for the nicest way to explain their previous failed relationship. "Looking back, I think I made a lot of assumptions about him. About us. Maybe if I hadn't…" He shook his head, abandoning the musing. It would do him little good to wonder about what ifs. "But I'm not, ah. I'm not holding onto it, you know. Think it's better for both of us if I move on."

"Then… you and him were…?"

"Friends. Then more, and then less." He waited, half expecting her to grow cold toward him now that she knew.

"Did he trick you?" she asked softly. "Did he tell you lies?"

Though she was probing for information about him and Asra, she was the one who suddenly looked terribly vulnerable, like she was baring some deep and secret soul-pain. "I don't remember," Julian answered, then muttered, "I do remember feeling used, though. Why do you ask?"

She averted her gaze, looking down at the floor. "Asra has been talking to the Countess all day about plague beetles and Lucio's ghost," she said, swiftly changing the subject.

Julian blinked. "What?"

"We found some red beetles in a village well in Nopal," she explained. "They flew away when we tried to get them out. Asra thinks this means the plague is coming back."

"He's right," Julian said soberly. "If those beetles get into the water supply, people will get sick from drinking it. The infection would spread, and it could get just as bad as it was at the height of the plague…" Not wanting to alarm her too much, he stopped himself from continuing. "At least, that's a possibility, and we would certainly want to prevent it from happening. Er, you also said something about Lucio's ghost?"

"I've seen him twice now. It doesn't look like Lucio, but Asra said he can sense that it's him. The ghost is this goatlike creature with red eyes and black horns, and it's missing an arm."

"Right or left?"

"His left."

"Lucio was missing his left arm. It was injured during battle. I had to amputate it to save his life." Standing up, Julian began to pace. He hoped he would never have to deal with any ghosts, let alone Lucio's. "What do you and Asra think it means?"

"I don't know what Asra thinks, but I suspect that both the plague and Lucio are trying to return to Vesuvia. Perhaps the two are even connected somehow."

Julian paused. Her answer was blunt, but logical. "I can see how that could be the case," he murmured.

"Something will have to be done to stop it," she said, standing up.

"Yeah." He nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I should do something…"

"We should do something."

"Marena—" he began. But before he could protest further, she shook her head.

"Remember what I said earlier?" Her hands cupped his face in a gentle caress. "We're working together now."

Despite his reluctance, Julian found himself leaning into her touch, even turning his face toward her palm as if to press his lips against the tender flesh there—only to quickly turn away when Portia came bustling out of her cottage, her cat Pepi following close on her heels.

"Aaand done!" She set two plates of steaming food in front of Julian and Marena. "Eat up quick, we gotta get you out of here soon."

She dropped down to sit beside them in the garden. Pepi swished around her legs before approaching the two guests, sniffing them curiously. Julian watched her sashaying tail until the smell of the food struck him, bringing back memories of home. "Oh," he said softly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Is this one of our grandmas' secret recipes?"

"Mmmhmm." Portia nodded, her mouth full.

"Haven't had this in a long time." Julian managed a small smile and reached out to wrap an arm around his sister's shoulders. "Tastes just the same, Pasha. Though it's a little undersalted, isn't it?"

"I did the best I could! I even used salts imported from Nevivon!"

"Maybe it tastes different when you're eating it in Nevivon," Julian tried to joke. "Salt is in the very air there. I could taste it with each breath…"

Though speaking about home only made Julian sad, Portia evidently did find the notion of the air making the food taste different amusing. She smiled brightly, then turned back to her food, looking radiantly happy in the moonlight.

Conversation flowed freely between the trio, but Julian was beginning to ache inside. He didn't feel like he belonged here. He felt like he didn't deserve to sit and laugh with his loved ones in the middle of a garden. After a long moment, he went quiet, staring down into his hands and his empty plate. Pepi climbed into his lap, purring loudly, and curled up into a little ball, blinking slowly up at him.

"I… you have a good life here, Pasha," Julian said. He shook his head, trying to clear the thought from his face, but succeeded only in ruffling his hair. "If things weren't the way they are. If I was a free man. A better man. Could I… have this?"

Portia and Marena looked startled by his shift in mood. The two women exchanged glances, and Marena opened her mouth to speak, but Julian beat her to the punch.

"It's foolish to think about," he muttered. "Just another pipe dream."

"You can have this, Julian," Marena said firmly.

"Can I? Even if I clear my name… Something will ruin this feeling. Maybe I'll sabotage it myself, without meaning to."

"Is it so hard to let yourself be happy?" Marena persisted. Beside her, Portia agitatedly fingered her empty plate in her lap, the motions of her fingers as if she were frantically scrubbing it clean.

"Yes," Julian replied.

"We're in this together, Ilya," Portia said. "If you start ruining things… one of us will stop you. Until you learn how to stop yourself." She managed a smile and a wink. "I believe in you. You've made it this far, haven't you?"

Julian smirked. "Yes, and made a mess of things along the way." The corners of his mouth turned downward in a frown. "Maybe I, uh. Maybe my mistake was trying to do everything alone. I thought if I kept you two out of it, I could keep you safe. But you just barreled on ahead and involved yourself anyway." He heaved a sigh. "I think… I think I need your help."

"We'll figure this out." Portia nodded.

"If you don't want to leave, Julian," Marena added. "If you really want answers… we'll help you get them. As long as you don't push us away."

"You're right," Julian agreed without thinking, then flushed crimson. He glanced up sharply at Marena, who stared back at him. She looked vulnerable again, her gaze raw and pleading. "I, uh," he mumbled. "I'm sorry it took so long to realize."

"Oh, I'm not surprised," Portia snickered. "You've always been dense. But you got it. Eventually." She yawned loudly. "Oops. Looks like I better head to bed. I have to wake up at dawn to work. Marena, will you be fine making your way back to the Palace?"

Marena nodded, and Portia stood up, collecting the dirty dishes. "Thank you," she said. "For being on his side."

With a final smile, she headed back into the cottage. Pepi lifted her head to watch, then settled back down in Julian's lap. Stroking the cat behind the ears, he waited for Marena to get up too, but she didn't move.

"...You know, we could stand to stay a little longer, in the garden," he said. "If you want to, with me."

"Let's stay a little longer," she agreed. "Although I really shouldn't be staying up late tonight…"

Julian was touched by her generosity. He tried to hide it behind a mischievous grin. "Ohh? Am I a bad influence on you, or the other way around?"

Her expression flickered, as if she wanted to smile, but something was clearly bothering her. Julian's grin faded as he settled back against the bench, his fingers stroking idly through Pepi's fur. "What's wrong?" he asked in the quiet, gentle tone of a confessor.

"Have you ever felt like a caged bird, trying to fly but unable to get past the bars?" she asked.

"I, uh… certainly," Julian said. "Although these days I feel more hunted than caged…"

She nodded grimly. "These days it's as if I'm being penned in on all sides by people who keep insisting I must act a certain way, believe what they believe, do what they want me to do. You're the only person who has no expectations for me. I can trust you not to try and corral me into doing your bidding. That is why I want to help you, Dr. Devorak."

"Oh." Though she hadn't directly answered his question, he sort of understood what she was getting at. It occurred to him that he didn't know what had been going on in her life since they last met, and yet she seemed noticeably different to him now. "How have you been, Marena?" he asked, hoping things would become clearer.

"Better than I have been in a long time, actually." She leaned forward, pinning him with her eyes. "You'll be pleased to know, doctor, that I haven't had a single headache in over twenty-four hours, despite thinking about my past almost non-stop." Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she were divulging some great secret. "And I met my father in Nopal yesterday."

"You what?" Julian gaped at her. He had turned the shadiest haunts in Vesuvia upside down looking for information on her family, but had never heard anything about her father being still alive. In fact, all that he had learned about the elusive Marcus Roland led him to conclude that the man was long dead.

She immediately launched into an impressive tale about the events of the past few days. He listened intently, and when she had finished he was full of questions and comments and things he wanted to say but probably shouldn't. But rather than blurt it all out at once, he kept his cards close to his chest. Instead, he made a peculiar observation: "Your accent has changed."

"My accent?" She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"When I first met you, you sounded just like Asra, born and raised right here in Vesuvia. But now, you talk differently. Your accent, your inflections, even the words you use. You're beginning to sound like—"

"Like myself again," she finished for him, her eyes bright and far more lucid than he had ever seen them.

"I was going to say you sound exotic, but that works too." He smirked. "Your father did say you were descended from royalty, didn't he?"

"I don't really care about that. It hardly matters."

"Of course, of course. But it's fun to think that I may be talking to a long lost princess. It certainly makes the story more interesting."

"Do you only think about how good something will sound in a story?"

"Only when it's suitably dramatic. Just imagine it, my dear. The fugitive doctor and the princess in exile, working to solve the mystery of the murdered Count. Doesn't that sound like exactly the sort of play you'd love to see?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. "Okay, enough about me. What about you? What have you been up to lately?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I also met with a few members of your family. In an abstract way, that is." Julian continued to stroke Pepi's fur. The cat purred loudly, nestling further into his lap. "I asked around Vesuvia and learned quite a few interesting things about your people."

"Oh Julian," she breathed. "Tell me everything."