Winter

The Swallow slipped into the Vordan City harbor as quietly as its namesake; it was one more small merchantman, unnoticed in the chaos. And chaos was certainly the order of the day. Six Borelgai men-of-war rode at anchor in the center of the harbor, under the cliff-​like face of the Vendre, while smaller craft and transports were moored at every available north-bank dock.

The Swallow turned away from them and headed for the south bank. There, the docks were mostly empty. Commercial traffic, it seemed, was keeping its distance from Vordan City.

Alex, Abraham, and Winter watched the approach from the bow, while Sothe and Captain Kerrak conferred farther aft. Abraham looked eager and a little shocked, staring at the skyline in wonder.

“You’ve never been to Vordan City?” Winter said.

He shook his head. “I’ve never been to a city. Not since I can remember, anyway. I grew up in a village, and I stayed there until the Black Priests came for me.” He glanced at Alex. “After we escaped, we went through a few towns, but nothing like this.”

“It’s certainly a far cry from the Mountain,” Alex said, but there was a tension in her voice. Winter caught her eye questioningly, and Alex gave an irritated shrug. “Bad memories. I haven’t been back here since they caught me and killed my mentor.”

“Ah,” Winter said. “Sorry to drag you through old pain.”

Alex shook her head, then looked over her shoulder at Sothe. “Orlanko’s dead. Andreas is dead. The Priests of the Black are smashed. And I’m still here.” She forced a smile. “Why shouldn’t I go where I like?”

“I’d say I’d give you a tour,” Winter said. “But honestly, I feel like a stranger myself. If we could track Abby down, she’d be the one to show you the sights.” She watched the empty docks slide past. “Though I suspect we won’t have much time to spare.”

“Afterward,” Abraham said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Infernivore bridled at the contact, but Winter kept it in check, a practiced reflex by now. She smiled.

“Afterward,” she agreed.

The Swallow was tied up at a sagging wooden dock in the shadow of the Grand Span, in front of a block of seedy warehouses. The crew secured the ship with quick efficiency, and ran out a gangplank. Sothe was talking quietly to Goltov, Alex’s handsome sailor. He nodded, giving Alex a quick glance, then hurried down the dock and up the street.

“I’m arranging transport,” Sothe said to Winter. “That will get you into the palace to see Raesinia. She’ll be able to take care of things from there.”

“You’re not coming?” Alex said.

“Not... immediately.” Sothe exchanged a look with Winter. “I have business to resolve first. But I’ll see you soon enough.”

“What about Ennika?” Abraham said.

“I’d be obliged if you’d take her with you,” Sothe said. “When I first found her, I thought of her as a captive, but...”

“She doesn’t seem to be much of a threat,” Winter said. “And she’s helped us.”

“Exactly. I was hoping Feor might know a way to make her more comfortable, at least.”

“Feor is the priestess you brought from Khandar?” Abraham said. “The one whose group held the Thousand Names?”

Winter nodded. “The Eldest thought they were the descendants of a group of Mages.”

“Yes,” Abraham said. “I suspect we will have a great deal to talk about. I wish the Eldest were here.”

“He can come and visit,” Alex said. “Afterward.”

Afterward. Such an easy phrase. If we win. If the Beast doesn’t destroy humanity. Even given all those ifs, it seemed unlikely that she would be around to see it. That’s why it’s easy to make promises.

After a few more minutes, a battered two-​horse carriage came around to the base of the dock. Goltov got out, exchanged a few words with the driver, and jogged back toward the ship. Winter looked back at Sothe.

“Thank you,” she said. “For helping me get here, and... everything else.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner,” Sothe said. “You remember what to tell Raesinia?”

“I remember.”

Abraham bowed respectfully to Sothe, and Alex waved. When Goltov arrived, Alex grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss, which attracted whistles and cheers from the watching crew. A crewman walked Ennika up from below, and Abraham took her arm, helping her down the gangplank and toward the waiting carriage. Alex and Winter followed.

The carriage driver, a burly, leather-​coated man with a wide-​brimmed hat, nodded respectfully to Winter as she opened the door.

“You know where we’re going?”

“Oh, yes, miss,” the man said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry.”

Inside the carriage, shades on the windows cut the glare from the afternoon sun. Ennika sat and ran her fingers over her nearly blank copy of the Wisdoms, while Alex and Abraham stared together out one window, Alex pointing out the landmarks as they passed by. They rattled over the Grand Span and through Farus’ Triumph, the traffic in the great square not nearly what Winter remembered. From there they took the smaller Saint Vallax Bridge and followed the street through the wider, tree-​lined thoroughfares of the north bank.

In Winter’s pack, down under her spare clothes, was a small notebook into which Sothe had copied relevant details from the Concordat surveillance reports of Ellie d’Ivoire. Winter had read through them, weirdly guilty, like she was opening a window into someone else’s life. Ellie’s family had lived not far from here, in a solid, respectable house with a lawn and a front drive, like the ones they drove past. If Duke Orlanko hadn’t issued the order for casual murder, this could have been Winter’s life, growing up as a businessman’s daughter in these safe, quiet streets. Then what? Getting married to some merchant’s son? Or taking up the family business—​after all, her brother had chosen a different career.

My brother. It was no use saying it to herself. It didn’t seem real. What do I do with a brother?

Sothe wanted her to talk to Marcus. That was obvious, even if she wouldn’t come out and say it. Her search for Ellie d’Ivoire was a self-​imposed penance, but she wasn’t willing to betray Winter’s secrets in order to complete it. Does it really matter, though? If I die fighting the Beast, then Sothe can do whatever she likes. And if, somehow, Winter survived... then I can think about what happens next.

The northern boundary of Vordan City was difficult to place. The houses gradually grew larger, the estates more extensive, until they were riding along a country road rather than a city street. Small, well-​manicured forests appeared among the elaborate gardens. Farther along, and the hedge-​and-​fence boundary of Ohnlei came into view, enclosing the vast royal estate that included the palace, Ministry buildings, and mansions of the favored elite.

Rather than going to the grand main gate, their driver took the carriage on a curving road that skirted the fence, coming to a much smaller and plainer entrance close to the palace proper. Two soldiers in the uniform of the Grenadier Guards stepped forward, and the driver presented his pass to them. Whatever it said, it must have been satisfactory, since they waved the carriage through.

“I wondered if we’d have trouble getting into the palace without causing an uproar,” Abraham said. “Evidently not.”

“Sothe was the head of Raesinia’s security for years,” Winter said. “I’m sure she knows every way in and out of here.”

The carriage bumped along a gravel drive at the rear of the palace, past the bulk of the Prince’s Tower. More guards were in evidence, but no one challenged them when they pulled up at what looked like a kitchen door. Winter and Alex got out, and Abraham helped Ennika down, while their driver opened the door without knocking and went inside. A few moments later he came back with a young woman in palace livery, who bowed.

“She’ll take you up to the queen,” the driver said. “Best of luck.” He nodded again, hopped back on the box, and snapped the reins, the carriage’s wheels spitting gravel as it got moving.

The young woman was even less talkative. She merely beckoned, and Winter and the others followed. They went through an empty kitchen and into a narrow corridor, which led to a servants’ stair. From there they followed a twisting path Winter couldn’t hope to replicate, never encountering another living soul. Their guide never faltered, and eventually they came to a door, which she opened to reveal a heavily decorated hallway, with cut-​glass windows and thick blue-​and-​silver carpet. The door they’d come out of closed flush with the wall, so as to be nearly invisible.

Ahead was a much grander door, carved hardwood depicting an armored figure on a rearing horse. Two guards with muskets stood in front of it, staring curiously at the group of newcomers. Winter’s guide held up a hand for her to wait, but Winter was already stepping forward.

“Barely!” she said. “Joanna!”

One of the guards, a tall woman, blinked and then made a rapid series of hand signs in the direction of her partner. The other, a short, skinny woman, stared at Winter, eyes going wide.

“Balls of the fucking Beast,” she said. “Sir? General Ihernglass? You have got to be joking!”

“No need to stand on formality,” Winter said, with a broad grin.

“Shit. Uh. Sorry, sir.” Barely straightened to attention, joining Joanna, who was already saluting. “You’re just the absolute last person I expected to step out of the woodwork.”

“Believe me, I don’t blame you.” Winter looked over her shoulder. “Can you tell the queen I’m here? Quietly, please. I’m not eager to alert the whole palace.”

“Of course. One moment.”

Barely opened the big door enough to slip inside. A few moments later she pulled it wide and beckoned. Winter looked for the servant, but she’d slipped away, all in silence. With Alex by her side and Abraham and Ennika behind her, Winter went into the royal suite.

It looked more or less as she expected the queen’s residence to look, with polished, gilded furniture and paintings of frowning nobility. Raesinia stood in front of her writing desk, grinning broadly. Winter resisted the urge to give her a nonchalant wave, and bowed instead. Alex and Abraham followed suit.

“Winter.” Raesinia shook her head. “God Almighty. We hoped... but I didn’t think...”

There were, Winter was astonished to see, tears in the queen’s eyes. She coughed uncomfortably.

“I’m. Um. Sorry it took me so long.” Stepping sideways, she waved a hand at her companions. “I think you’ve met Alex. This is Abraham, a healer from the Mountain, and Ennika, a... refugee. I wouldn’t have made it without them.”

“They all have demons? I knew I felt something in the palace.”

Winter nodded.

“Welcome, all of you,” Raesinia said. “Winter—”

“I know. We should talk, alone.” Winter turned to the others. “If you don’t mind waiting for a moment.”

Alex was looking around with obviously avaricious eyes, as though she were totaling up the cost of the furnishings. Abraham nodded kindly and directed Ennika to a seat at a nearby table. Raesinia reached out and rang a small silver bell that hung from the wall.

“Eric will be here in a moment,” the queen said. “If you need anything—​drinks, food—​just tell him.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Alex said.

Raesinia waved vaguely as she retreated to an inner room, with Winter following behind. This was her bedchamber, with a huge four-​poster bed shrouded by translucent curtains dominating. Raesinia shut the door behind them and let out a deep breath.

“Not that I mind, obviously,” she said, “but can I ask how you got into the palace without anyone telling me?”

“Sothe,” Winter said. “She found us in Murnsk and brought us here.”

“She’s here?” Raesinia said.

“In the city, at least,” Winter said. “There was business to take care of, apparently. But she told me to tell you that she’s sorry and that she’ll be there when you need her.”

There was a long silence, punctuated by a soft thump as Raesinia slumped back against the closed door. The tears in her eyes threatened to overflow, and she wiped her sleeve across her face, sniffing.

“When I most need her,” Raesinia said in a small voice. “I’ve needed her ever since she left. Idiot woman.”

“I know the situation is... complicated,” Winter said, shifting awkwardly. “Whatever she’s doing, she has a good reason.”

“Of course she does.” Raesinia blinked rapidly and pushed herself away from the door. “God. I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult few days.”

“I understand,” Winter said. “How much do you know about what’s happening?”

“About the war, you mean?”

“About the Beast.”

Raesinia stared at her. “How can you know about that?”

“I was there,” Winter said. “When it escaped from Elysium.”

“Escaped?” Raesinia shook her head. “You may need to start at the beginning.”

There wasn’t time to go over everything, of course. Even a summary took a while. Winter kept to the basics—​the nature of the Beast, its ability to control minds, its unstoppable spread throughout Murnsk and its implacable pursuit of Infernivore. While she spoke, Raesinia walked slowly to the bed and sat down, as though she didn’t trust her legs.

When Winter came to Ennika’s role in the story, the queen brought her up short. “Janus? She said Janus spoke to her?”

“Yes,” Winter said. “We weren’t certain if we could believe that, but it’s hard to think what the Beast has to gain by pretending to be Janus. I know it sounds crazy—”

“Not... entirely.” Raesinia shook her head. “Marcus met with Janus, during the campaign in the Pale valley. Janus demanded he surrender, but while they were talking he passed him a note. As though he had to... slip it past someone. It said that Janus’ mind was not his own and that you were our best chance against the Beast. That’s the only reason I know the name.”

“Saints and martyrs,” Winter said. “So he really could be... alive in there? Aware? Whatever that means.”

“And trying to help us,” Raesinia said.

“Or trick us into helping him. I wouldn’t put either past Janus,” Winter said. But she had to admit the corroboration lifted some of her doubt. “And now he’s coming here?”

Raesinia nodded. “With an army that’s at least twice as strong as everything we’ve got.”

“Ennika said the core, the Beast’s original body, is coming with him.”

“If we kill that, does it hurt the thing?”

“Not seriously,” Winter said. “But if I can get to it with Infernivore, the Eldest at the mountain thought I might be able to destroy it for good. That has to be the chance Janus talked about.” Winter took a deep breath. “If I push on north, I should be able to find it before he reaches the city. I don’t know exactly what will happen if I succeed—”

“You’ll never get close,” Raesinia said. “Don’t be stupid. The Beast knows this is a possibility, even if it doesn’t know you’re here. The core will be well guarded.”

“What else can we do?” Winter said. “I have to try.”

“We can figure out a way that gives you a chance at success,” Raesinia said. “Which means not running off half-​cocked. We may not be able to match Janus’ numbers, but he’ll have to at least deploy for battle when he comes against us, and that alone will give you an easier shot at the core.” She got up from the bed, her face all decision. “We need to talk to Marcus. He’s out there trying to bang the fresh recruits into some kind of army—”

“That may not be a good idea,” Winter said, a little desperately. “Time could be important.”

“Like I said, if we’re only going to get one chance, we have to make it count. Besides, I’m sure there are other people you’re going to want to see.” Raesinia smiled again. “You’re back from the dead. Do you have any idea—”

“No,” Winter said. “Please. You can’t... tell people I’m here.” Cyte. “I can’t...”

The room shimmered. This time, Winter realized, she was the one on the verge of tears.

There was a pause. After a moment she felt Raesinia take her hand, pulling her to a seat on a velvet-​cushioned chaise. The queen sat down across from her, cross-​legged on an ottoman.

“Winter,” Raesinia said. “What’s going on?”

“I just...” Winter swallowed hard. “When I confronted the Beast the first time, at Elysium, it nearly devoured me at the same time I was using Infernivore to try to destroy it. Assuming I succeed this time, I’m not sure that it... won’t succeed, too. I don’t know if there’ll be anything left of me afterward.”

“Oh,” Raesinia said. Her gaze was far away.

“It has to be done,” Winter said. “I know that. If it’s me or all of humanity, obviously it has to be me. I’m not... afraid.” That was a lie. Sometimes she felt like she was nothing but afraid. “But the people in the Second Division, Marcus... they already think I’m dead. Wouldn’t it be more cruel to them to come back for a little while and then to leave again?”

Raesinia sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Then I should stay quiet—”

“It might be more cruel, in the end,” Raesinia interrupted. “But I do know that if you asked them, if you gave them the choice, they would want to see you again. However briefly you were going to stay.”

Winter stared at her. Her throat was thick. Raesinia looked down, her hands interlocking in her lap.

“I’m hardly one to go around dispensing wisdom,” she said. “Queen or not. I just thought...” She trailed off.

“You’re right,” Winter said. “They would want to see me.” I’m just scared. Scared to see Marcus and of all that would mean. Scared to see Cyte again, and then face not seeing her. And the others. Abby. Feor. Sevran. I can’t just slink away. Winter swallowed again and sat up straighter. “Your plan makes sense. If you’re willing to help. “

“Good,” Raesinia said. “I’ll send a messenger to Marcus, and we can get started.”

“Actually, I think I need to speak to Marcus alone. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Raesinia stood up, then looked back at Winter. “Do you need to try to find one of your old uniforms? The ones that, ah...”

Her disguise. Winter looked down at herself. She’d had the chance to wash all her clothes aboard ship, though they were still heavily patched and motley. Her traveling outfit wasn’t particularly feminine, trousers and a loose shirt, but neither was it intended to conceal, like her tailored uniforms. Even her hair had grown out, almost to her shoulders.

“No,” she said. Something inside her twisted. “I don’t think so.”

*

Winter sat in one of the palace’s innumerable parlors, in a wingback chair beside a roaring fire that dispelled the late-​autumn chill. Servants had brought a glass of wine—​rather good wine—​and a tray of fruit and cheese. She waited, tense as a cat, until she heard booted footsteps outside the door.

Marcus came in, brushing flecks of mud from the sleeves of his uniform coat. He’d aged visibly since Winter had last seen him, the dark circles under his eyes hardening into permanent fixtures, the hair at his temples and in his beard flecked with gray. He also seemed, in some indefinable way, smaller. In her memory, especially from back in Khandar, he loomed as enormous and solid as a mountain. This was just a man, a decade or so older than her and half a head taller, weary after a long day and short of sleep.

She wondered what he saw, looking at her. It took him a moment, and then his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him carefully.

“General Ihernglass,” he said. “By God it’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, General d’Ivoire,” Winter said. “You’ve talked to the queen?”

“She filled me in,” Marcus said, crossing the room. “Though I have some questions for you about the Beast. I take it you’ve seen it in action.”

“More than enough for one lifetime,” Winter said. “But I need to talk to you about something else first.”

“Something else?” Marcus frowned.

“It’s...” She took a deep breath. “Go ahead and sit down. It may take a few minutes.”

Marcus looked at her curiously, but took the other seat, stretching out to put his boots near the fire. Winter leaned across to pass him the second glass of wine, which he accepted gratefully.

“I see you’re in your... female disguise again,” he said, after a sip. “Good thinking. If Janus and the Beast are looking for General Ihernglass, they’re hardly going to question a ragged girl.”

Winter set her jaw. Marcus had seen her without her disguise once before, when she was working with Jane’s Leatherbacks, and he’d had the same response then. Sothe was right. He truly doesn’t want to see.

“First of all,” she said carefully, “let’s get that out of the way. This is not a disguise, Marcus.”

“I mean...” He waved his hands vaguely. “It’s not as obvious as last time, but—”

“I mean it is not a disguise at all,” Winter said. “I am a woman.”

“You...” Marcus blinked. “You’re...”

“Please don’t make me pull up my shirt and demonstrate,” Winter said.

“That, uh, won’t be necessary,” Marcus said hastily. He stared at her. “You’re... I mean... since Khandar?”

“Since I was born, as far as I know,” Winter said.

“How? How did you...?”

“Do you really want to know?”

He thought about that for a moment. “No,” he said. “Not really. But why?”

“Because you would have thrown me out of the army if I hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have...” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thrown you out. I would have made certain you were taken care of.”

“I’m sure you would have, but that’s not the point.”

“Why join the army at all?” Marcus said. “Why would a girl...? I mean, why would you want that?”

“You’ve been commanding the Girls’ Own, I understand,” Winter said. “Ask them.”

“That’s different,” Marcus said. “I admit, at the beginning, I was... opposed to the idea. But the women in the Girls’ Own joined up because they wanted to defend Vordan when it was under attack.”

Or because it was the only way out of wherever they started, Winter thought. Or out of a marriage they hated, or away from a father who beat them. Or because they wanted an adventure. Or a hundred other reasons. But she remained silent.

“I understand that,” Marcus went on. “When your country is in danger, sometimes you have to do things that... aren’t usual. But you were in Khandar for three years before the Redemption, weren’t you? God, you must have been what, eighteen when you arrived?”

“Twenty,” Winter corrected.

“Why, then?”

“That’s the second part. The more important part.” Winter paused, gathering her courage. “I grew up in an institution. A school called Mrs. Wilmore’s Royal Benevolent Home for Wayward Youth.” From the way Marcus’ face went still, she knew he recognized the name. “It... wasn’t a good place, and I ran away. I wanted to get as far from there as I possibly could.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I was in my right mind, to be honest. But the recruiting sergeants weren’t hard to trick, and Khandar is a hell of a long way from anywhere.” She let out a long breath. “Did Raesinia tell you how we got back to Vordan?”

“Only that it was difficult,” Marcus said quietly.

“Difficult is one word,” Winter said carefully. “We were stuck in a Murnskai port called Dimiotsk when Sothe found us. She had a ship all ready.”

“Yes, she did tell me that. Janus talked to her, somehow, and told her to go and get you. But—”

Winter held up a hand. “While we were aboard ship, Sothe and I talked. She told me about your parents.”

“Did she tell you,” Marcus grated, “that she killed them?”

“She did. She also told me she’d been looking for your little sister, Ellie.”

Another silence. Wood in the fireplace popped with a sound like a musket shot.

“Did you...?” Marcus’ voice was thick. “You were at Mrs. Wilmore’s. Did you know her?”

“Not exactly,” Winter said. “Marcus, she told me I am Ellie d’Ivoire.”

She watched his face pale by several shades, blood running out of it like his throat had been slashed. His eyes never left hers.

“You?” he said. “E-Ellie?”

“I don’t remember the name,” Winter said. “I don’t remember anything, really. Except fire.” She took the small notebook out of her pocket, held it in front of her like a peace offering. “This is the information Sothe copied from the Concordat archives. It’s... convincing.”

“But...” Marcus blinked.

“Look.” Winter shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what to do with this any more than you do. I wasn’t sure whether I could tell you I was a woman, for God’s sake. I don’t know what this means, or how it affects us, but I just thought...” She paused for breath. “I thought you’d rather know than keep wondering.”

Abruptly, Marcus got to his feet. Winter stood, cautiously, eyes still on his pale face.

“Marcus?” she said. “Please say something.”

The last thing she was expecting was for him to lurch forward. At first she thought he was attacking her, mad as that sounded. By the time she realized he wanted an embrace, she was already twisting away, slipping under his outstretched arms, and backing rapidly against the wall. Her heart was pounding. Marcus looked at her, his arms falling to his sides.

“Sorry,” Winter said. “I’m sorry. You... surprised me.”

A log in the fireplace collapsed with a crackle. Marcus blinked, turned away, and left the room without a word.

*

A messenger found her not long afterward, and told her that General d’Ivoire was otherwise occupied for the evening, but would be available to see her tomorrow. In the meantime, the young ranker said, he would be happy to escort her to where the Second Division was being quartered.

“They’re here?” Winter said, her heart still slowing down. “In the palace?”

“The officers have quarters here,” the ranker said. “The rest are under canvas in the gardens.”

“Is Cyte—​is Captain Cytomandiclea here?”

“Of course. I can take you to her.”

Once again Winter found herself walking through the complex maze that was the palace, though this time they stuck to the lavish main passages instead of taking the servants’ corridors. Still as statues, the Grenadier Guards in the hall let them pass. Winter found herself subconsciously waiting for salutes.

She felt strange. Light, somehow, in the way she could be in dreams, as though each step might end with her floating away. Or like she’d walked off a cliff and was still in midfall, momentarily weightless until the ground arrived.

I told Marcus. My brother. It was strange to think that while the second half of her revelation had undoubtedly been what had shaken Marcus, it was the first half that had been the most difficult for Winter to nerve herself up to. I learned who Ellie d’Ivoire was only a few days ago. I’ve been hiding who I am for more than four years. Her mood shifted from a slightly hysterical calm to a certainty of imminent doom and back again every few steps.

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe I should find somewhere to sleep until I calm down. She wouldn’t, though. Not now. She’d already taken the plunge by talking to Marcus. Besides, it won’t be long before rumors that I’m back start to spread. The thought of Cyte finding out like that, before Winter had come to see her, made her quicken her steps.

The messenger left her in front of an imposing carved door, and bowed respectfully when Winter told him to go. His retreating footsteps matched the hammering of her heart as she raised her hand and knocked, almost inaudibly.

“Come in.” Cyte’s voice, harried and distracted. “If it’s a note, leave it on the table.”

Winter opened the door. Inside was a small suite, suitable for housing a minor noble and his servants. The main room had a large dining table, a sofa, and a couple of armchairs, all of which had been converted to serve as storage for stacks of paper and rolled leather maps. A big one, held flat by a pistol at one end and a sword belt at the other, showed the land north of Vordan City and was covered in grease-​pencil markings. Cyte stood in front of it, looking down, comparing the map with pages from a loose pile and scribbling notes on foolscap.

She was just as Winter remembered her, slim as a dagger in her blue uniform, dark hair falling to her shoulders over too-​pale skin. Her face bore the same signs of overwork and lack of sleep that it had in Murnsk, when Winter had left, though at least the weathering of the north had faded somewhat.

“Yes?” she said, without looking up. “Is there a message?”

Winter found that she couldn’t speak, could only stare greedily. The soft, pale curve of Cyte’s bent neck attracted her eyes like a magnet. A lock of dark hair slipped forward, and Cyte’s hand came up automatically to tuck it behind her ear, a gesture so familiar that it made Winter’s heart ache.

“If there’s no message,” Cyte said, turning, “then what’s... going... on...?”

She stopped, eyes wide, mouth open. Winter felt her cheeks flush under Cyte’s gaze.

“Winter?” Cyte’s voice was almost inaudible.

Winter nodded slowly. The air felt fragile, as though too forceful a movement might shatter the world.

Cyte crossed the room one step at a time, still staring. She stopped a few feet away, her throat working as she swallowed.

“I knew it,” she whispered. “Even before we heard from Janus, I knew you were alive.”

“I...”

Winter stopped. What am I supposed to say? That she’d felt no such certainty? That standing here, finally seeing for herself that Cyte had survived, released knots of tension she’d held for so long she’d almost forgotten it could be any other way? That I’m not sure whether I want to laugh, or cry, or just kiss her until I run out of breath—

Cyte solved that problem, stumbling forward the last few steps, wrapping her arms around Winter’s neck like she was clinging to a life rope. Winter had the presence of mind to kick the door closed behind her, and leaned against it for support. Her arms went around Cyte’s shoulders automatically, hands clasping at the small of her back.

They stayed that way for a long interval, the soundless shaking of Cyte’s slim body the only evidence of her tears. Her face was buried in the crook of Winter’s neck, and Winter gripped her tightly, as though sheer pressure could erase the time they’d spent apart.

“I’m sorry,” Winter whispered into the mass of Cyte’s hair. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Cyte’s shoulders only shook harder. Winter held her close until the shudders subsided. Eventually Cyte took a long, slow breath and raised her head. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but her lips stretched in an awkward smile.

“God. I’m sorry.” Cyte gave a laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. “You step through the door and I just—”

“It’s all right.” Winter squeezed Cyte a little tighter, blinking away tears of her own.

“You’re okay?” Cyte said.

“I... think so.” Winter sucked in a deep breath. “It’s a long story. Are you...?”

“I’m fine,” Cyte said, when Winter trailed off. “It was touch and go a few times after Alves, but I’m still here.”

Silence fell, tight and awkward. Where they were pressed together, Winter could feel Cyte’s heart beating fast as a songbird’s.

“You probably want to know what’s happened to the Second,” Cyte said, her eyes never leaving Winter’s. “I have the... the strength reports, and...”

“What I want,” Winter said carefully, “is to kiss you.” And never, ever stop.

“Oh,” Cyte said quietly. “I would, um, like that? More than... you know. Anything at all, really.”

From the moment their lips met, it was as if Winter had been hit by a bolt of lightning, heat running through her body like a tide. Cyte’s breath tickled her cheek as they staggered together across the room, unwilling to part even for an instant.

When they reached the sofa, Cyte swept several piles of reports onto the floor with a soft susurrus of sliding paper, punctuated by urgent gasps that Winter no longer knew who was making. Cyte sat down, breathing hard as Winter’s lips slid down her cheek and along the delicate curve of her neck. One of Cyte’s hands worked its way under her shirt, slipping up the curve of her back, sending waves of fire along her spine.

How could I have considered not telling her I was here? The fear that had driven her seemed incomprehensible now. I might not come back from stopping the Beast. I might fail, and all of humanity might die with me.

But for the moment, at least, I’m still alive.

*

They’d made it to the bedroom, eventually, after knocking over a few more of Cyte’s carefully balanced piles of paperwork. After the initial rush had worn off, they’d had time for things like buttons. From the couch to the bed, the pieces of Cyte’s uniform made a kind of trail interspersed with Winter’s rough, dirty clothes. The bed was another big four-​poster, with a down mattress that felt far too soft to be real. Cyte lay in the center of it, where they’d come to rest, her arms spread wide and Winter’s head pillowed against her cheek.

Her breathing had soon taken on the soft rhythm of sleep, but Winter felt too keyed up for that. After a while she rolled out of bed as carefully as she could and padded naked across the thick carpet to the toilet. When she was finished, she ran hot water from the tap—​hot, running water, that unimaginable luxury—​and splashed it over her face and some of the more obvious grime. She went back into the bedroom, air cool against her damp skin.

Climbing back into bed, she paused for a moment, looking down at Cyte. With her eyes closed, some of the tension was gone from her face, making her look younger and more innocent. Her beauty brought a lump to Winter’s throat. She let her gaze run across her, deliberately—​milk-​pale skin; small, perfect breasts; stomach hard and muscled from life in the field; the thatch of dark hair between her legs. Watching Cyte like this, acknowledging her desire for her, felt wrong, vaguely obscene. It added a thrill of the forbidden that pebbled Winter’s skin into goose bumps.

She slid back into the bed, alongside her lover, feeling Cyte move sleepily as she draped an arm across her. Winter pressed her head against Cyte’s and let her eyes close.

Is it really okay to feel like this? On its face she knew it was a silly question. But she couldn’t help feeling like she needed permission, or else the universe was going to come down on her hard.

Well. If it does, then the hell with the universe.

*

When they awoke, it was well after sunset. Cyte got out of bed, stumbling and giggling in the dark, until she managed to find a candelabra in its nook and get it lit. From there, she bustled around the bedroom, lighting more lamps.

“Okay,” Winter said, eyes on Cyte’s naked backside as she bent over to retrieve her uniform shirt from the floor. “Now you can tell me about the Second.”

Cyte laughed, and obligingly gave an abridged recitation of the events of the Pale campaign. Winter winced at her description of the fighting at Satinvol and Alves, the long march that followed, and the death of Colonel Erdine.

“Damn,” she said. “He was a good officer, for all that he liked to puff himself up.”

“I know.” Cyte slid her trousers on. She still had her shirt hanging open, and Winter found the resulting half-​dress incredibly appealing. “I’m worried about Abby.”

“She’s not taking it well?”

Cyte shook her head. “I don’t know if they were... I mean, I don’t think Abby had any illusions about their relationship. But it was something for her to hold on to, and now she doesn’t even have that.” She sighed. “You should see her as soon as you can.”

“I will.” Winter shook her head. “Though I don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Cyte said. “The Girls’ Own is going to go mad just hearing you’re back.”

Winter hesitated. “I’m... not sure we should tell them.”

“What?” Cyte turned. “Why?”

“There’s something I have to do,” Winter said. “It’s—

“The Beast?” Cyte said.

Winter blinked. “How do you know about that?”

“Marcus and I have been putting some pieces together,” Cyte said. “Not everything, but enough.”

“Then you know this is about more than whether Janus or Raesinia sits on the throne,” Winter said. “I may be the only one who can stop it.”

Cyte nodded. “And?”

“And... I might not be coming back.”

“You’re a soldier,” Cyte said. “So am I. So are they. We understand what that means.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Winter said. “Even if we win, even if I destroy the Beast, I don’t know...” She fought a sudden hitch in her throat. “I don’t want to hurt my friends more than I have already. I’m not sure I should have come here, but I... I couldn’t...”

Cyte crossed the room in a few determined strides and crawled onto the bed, shirt still hanging open. Winter sat up, but Cyte put a hand on her chest and pushed her flat, propping herself on hands and knees.

“Winter,” she said. “You are being an idiot.”

“But—”

“Stop.”

“You don’t understand,” Winter said, tears welling again. “My friends—​the people I’m close to—​they get hurt. They die. Sergeant Red, the women who followed me to look for Janus. The ones who came with me to Elysium. Leti and the Haeta.” She knew those names would mean nothing to Cyte, but she couldn’t stop them from pouring out. “Bobby. Bobby’s dead, Cyte. She saved me, and then she died. I don’t—​I can’t—”

“Please, Winter,” Cyte said. Her voice had gone from hard to gentle. “Stop.”

The words ran out. Winter lay still, breathing raggedly, staring up into Cyte’s face.

“Do you know why the people around you get hurt?” Cyte said. “It’s because they’re the same kind of person you are. People who put themselves in danger because they want to help others, or because they have a duty.”

“But—”

“You think no one got hurt after you left? No one sacrificed themselves when we were fighting Janus at Alves?” Cyte’s lip twisted, and she held up one hand, fingers an inch apart. “I came this close to getting my head shot off. You don’t get to take responsibility for that.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,” Winter said.

“You may have started me on this path,” Cyte said, real anger in her voice now. “But I didn’t have to keep going. Give us some fucking credit, Winter!”

“I’m sorry,” Winter said. “You’re right. I know—”

“You don’t,” Cyte said. “But I’m going to keep pounding it into your head until you do. You’re a commander, but that doesn’t make you a god. You can only do what you can.” She took a deep breath. “You’re going to stop the Beast, and you’re going to come back. Just like you came back this time.”

There was a pause. Cyte shifted and rolled onto her back, next to Winter.

“Okay,” Winter said.

“Good.”

Another, longer silence.

“When I was riding away from the cavalry at Alves,” Cyte said, quieter now, “I could almost feel them coming up behind me. I heard the shots going past. And...” She swallowed. “All I could think was that I couldn’t die, because I had to be here when you got back.”

“Oh, Cyte.” Winter rolled onto her elbow, leaned over Cyte, and kissed her. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Good.” Cyte grinned. “Now. Did you say you went to Elysium?”

Winter flopped back. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cyte said. “Get started.”