The next morning, Fia woke to sunlight on her face and absolutely no idea whose arm was around her waist.
She remained very still.
Not because she was afraid.
Because identifying the culprit without moving had become something of a survival exercise.
The arm was warm.
Strong.
Definitely not Mira—Mira slept like someone who expected a medical emergency at any moment, usually with enough personal space to launch herself upright immediately.
Not Lyriel either. Lyriel somehow managed to sleep as though even unconsciousness required proper posture.
Seraphine was possible.
Except the hand currently resting across Fia's stomach had a faint callus along the base of the fingers.
Fia closed her eyes.
"Elira."
Nothing.
"Elira."
A muffled noise came from behind her.
Fia looked down.
The arm tightened.
"Five more minutes," Elira muttered into the back of Fia's hair.
"You're crushing me."
"Affectionately."
"That doesn't make it better."
"It makes everything better."
Across the enormous bed, Mira opened one eye.
"No, it does not."
Elira went completely still.
Mira raised her head from the pillow.
Her blue-black hair had escaped its braid completely, leaving her looking far less intimidating than usual.
Unfortunately, her healer stare remained fully operational.
"Move your arm," Mira said.
Elira sighed dramatically and loosened her hold.
"There. She lives."
Mira's eyes narrowed.
"That is not the standard."
Fia rolled carefully onto her back.
No dizziness.
No stabbing pain beneath the ribs.
No strange cold running through her bones.
She inhaled.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Still nothing.
Only a mild pull in her chest and the pleasant soreness from yesterday's garden walk.
She almost didn't trust it.
Mira noticed her expression immediately.
"Pain?"
"Two."
Mira sat up.
"Two?"
"Maybe one and a half."
"That is not how the scale works."
"It should be."
From the other side of the bed came Seraphine's sleepy voice.
"If she has enough energy to argue about fractions, she is improving."
Fia turned.
The queen was lying on her stomach, cheek against one folded arm, dark-gold hair spilling wildly across the pillow.
Fia stared.
Seraphine cracked one eye open.
"What?"
"You look normal."
A dangerous pause.
Elira made a strangled sound into the pillow.
Mira covered her mouth.
Lyriel, who had apparently been awake this entire time and reading beneath the blankets, lowered her book.
Seraphine slowly pushed herself upright.
"I am going to allow you one opportunity," the queen said with grave dignity, "to explain what you mean by that."
Fia immediately realized her mistake.
"I meant relaxed."
"Incorrect."
"Human?"
"Worse."
Elira lost control and burst out laughing.
Fia buried her face under the blanket.
"I meant beautiful."
Seraphine considered.
"That answer is acceptable."
"You are impossible."
"And yet," Seraphine said, tugging down the blanket enough to reveal Fia's eyes, "you intend to marry me."
Elira lifted a hand.
"Us."
Seraphine glanced toward her.
"Yes. Unfortunately."
"Rude."
Lyriel turned a page.
"Statistically, Elira is the most likely to turn the wedding ceremony into an international incident."
Elira sat upright.
"That is slander."
"It is prediction."
Mira reached over and took Fia's wrist.
Fia sighed.
"We were having a moment."
"We can have moments after I confirm your heart is behaving."
"My heart is surrounded by four women."
"Yes," Lyriel said without looking up. "That is likely contributing to the instability."
Fia's face heated.
Elira pointed at Lyriel.
"There. That was flirting."
Lyriel finally looked up.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"You absolutely do."
Seraphine leaned toward Fia and murmured, "We should probably escape before breakfast becomes another academic debate."
Mira released Fia's wrist.
"Pulse is good."
Fia smiled.
"Can I get out of bed?"
Mira studied her.
"Yes."
Fia immediately started moving.
"Slowly."
Fia stopped.
Elira laughed.
Fia glared.
"One day," she said, "I will be medically cleared to move at a normal speed."
Mira climbed out of bed.
"One day you will understand that 'normal speed' does not mean 'throw yourself toward the nearest crisis.'"
"That sounds boring."
Mira froze.
Fia froze.
Elira's eyes widened.
Seraphine slowly turned.
Lyriel lowered her book again.
Fia immediately raised both hands.
"I take it back."
Mira stared.
"I didn't mean Lucien bored."
"Good."
"I meant ordinary bored."
"Better."
Elira grinned.
"I think the prince traumatized the word."
"He traumatizes most concepts he encounters," Lyriel said.
That ended the matter.
Mostly.
---
Breakfast was served outside.
Not in the royal dining hall.
Not in the council chamber.
Not anywhere a minister might locate Seraphine through instinct.
They had chosen one of the smaller terraces overlooking the inner gardens, where climbing roses curled around the stone railing and the city roofs stretched golden beneath the morning sun.
The table was deliberately informal.
Fresh bread.
Butter.
Honey.
Eggs.
Smoked fish.
Fruit.
Tea.
Coffee imported through the River Confederacy.
And a bowl of tiny sugared pastries Elira had somehow convinced the kitchen to provide despite Mira's objection.
Fia sat bundled in a light violet shawl, staring at the city.
She still found it strange sometimes.
All of this.
The palace.
The kingdom.
Her body.
Her lovers.
Her life.
She had once known Arclight as backgrounds, route maps, character portraits, battle CGs and dialogue trees.
Now somewhere below, bakers were opening shops.
Children were running through narrow streets.
Soldiers were changing watch.
People were arguing over market prices.
Someone was probably late for work.
Someone was falling in love.
Someone had no idea Fia existed.
That realization comforted her more than she expected.
The world did not revolve around her.
No matter how much the system seemed determined to suggest otherwise.
Seraphine poured herself coffee.
"No politics today."
Lyriel looked up.
"Define politics."
"No."
"That is not a definition."
"It is an order."
Lyriel considered.
"Efficient."
Elira reached for a pastry.
Mira slapped her hand.
Elira stared at her.
"You cannot medically prohibit joy."
"I can medically prohibit you eating the entire bowl before Fia gets one."
"I was testing them for poison."
Mira looked toward Seraphine.
The queen calmly took a pastry.
"Continue testing."
Mira stared at her too.
Fia laughed.
"Your authority is collapsing."
Seraphine took a bite.
"Temporarily."
Mira sighed and pushed the bowl toward Fia.
"You first."
Fia selected the smallest pastry.
Elira looked personally offended.
"That one barely counts."
"I want this one."
"Take the one with cream."
"No."
"Chocolate?"
"No."
"Berry?"
Fia looked at her.
"Elira."
"Yes?"
"I am capable of choosing pastry."
Elira leaned back.
"Growth."
Lyriel murmured, "Remarkable."
Fia threw a grape at her.
Lyriel caught it without looking.
Everyone stared.
Lyriel looked down at the grape in her hand.
Then slowly at Fia.
Elira slapped the table.
"Again."
"No."
"Again!"
Fia threw another.
Lyriel missed.
The grape bounced off her forehead.
Silence.
Lyriel pushed her glasses up.
Fia stared.
Then Mira started laughing.
Not a polite laugh.
Not a quiet smile.
A real one.
Seraphine followed.
Elira nearly fell backward out of her chair.
Fia covered her mouth.
Lyriel maintained dignity for approximately six seconds.
Then she threw the grape back.
It hit Elira instead.
That made everything worse.
By the time breakfast ended, three grapes had rolled under the table, Seraphine had declared produce-based warfare forbidden at royal meals, and Mira had threatened to leave all four of them medically unsupervised if they didn't behave.
Nobody believed her.
---
After breakfast came something Fia had almost forgotten existed.
Nothing.
Nothing was scheduled.
No training.
No medical examination until evening.
No strategy session.
No ward study.
No council.
No Black Chapel research.
Seraphine had delegated.
Lyriel had been forcibly separated from most of her books.
Elira's captaincy had been temporarily handed to her second.
Mira had apparently threatened the healer corps until another senior healer agreed to cover the palace wing.
They had an entire day.
Fia stood in the garden path with her hands behind her back.
"What do people do with these?"
Elira looked at her.
"With what?"
"Days."
Elira blinked.
Seraphine's expression softened.
Mira looked concerned in a completely different way.
Lyriel said, "Usually waste them."
"That sounds wonderful."
Elira threw one arm around Fia's shoulders.
"Then today, my beautiful disaster, we waste time professionally."
Mira immediately removed Elira's arm.
"Less weight on her shoulders."
Elira stared.
"You are sabotaging romance."
"I am preserving the participant."
Fia laughed.
"Can we just walk?"
So they did.
---
The palace gardens were larger than Fia remembered.
Or perhaps she had never really seen them.
Before, every walk had served some purpose.
A secret meeting.
A political conversation.
A medical recovery.
A romantic confession.
An assassination attempt.
The old otome game had never included meaningless pathways.
Real life did.
Some paths ended at fountains.
Others circled flowerbeds.
One went nowhere except a bench beneath an old willow tree.
Fia loved that one immediately.
"This is my favorite."
Seraphine looked around.
"There's nothing here."
"Exactly."
Elira nodded solemnly.
"The philosophy of laziness."
Lyriel touched the trunk of the willow.
"This tree is approximately two hundred and thirty years old."
Elira stared.
"You ruined it."
"How?"
"Now the bench has history."
Lyriel frowned.
"That is not how history works."
"Everything has to be educational with you."
"I can make it less educational."
"How?"
Lyriel looked at Elira.
"That tree could fall and kill you."
Elira blinked.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Fia sat on the bench.
Seraphine settled beside her.
Mira sat on the other side.
Elira stretched out on the grass.
Lyriel remained standing for about thirty seconds before Fia caught her sleeve.
"Sit."
Lyriel looked down.
"That was suspiciously authoritative."
"I'm practicing."
"For becoming royal consort?"
Fia nearly choked.
Seraphine's eyebrows rose.
Elira rolled over immediately.
Mira smiled into her hand.
Fia stared at Lyriel.
"You did that deliberately."
Lyriel sat beside Mira with absolute calm.
"I have no evidence supporting that accusation."
"You are evil."
"Former villainess accusing me of evil."
"I was framed by genre conventions."
Seraphine laughed softly.
They stayed there for nearly an hour.
Sometimes talking.
Sometimes not.
Fia discovered silence could be intimate without being uncomfortable.
Mira eventually took out a small sewing kit and repaired a loose edge on Fia's shawl.
Seraphine rested her head against the tree and closed her eyes.
Elira fell asleep in the grass.
Lyriel produced a book from somewhere.
Fia stared.
"I thought we confiscated those."
"This is recreational."
"It has equations."
"They relax me."
"That is deeply upsetting."
Lyriel turned a page.
Fia leaned against Mira.
Mira's shoulder was warm.
"You tired?"
"A little."
"We can go back."
"No."
Fia closed her eyes.
"I like this."
Mira's fingers brushed lightly through her hair.
"Then stay."
So she did.
---
Around midday, Elira decided the day required entertainment.
This was rarely good.
She appeared from somewhere near the hedge carrying a wooden box.
Seraphine immediately became suspicious.
"What is that?"
"A game."
Lyriel looked interested.
Mira looked concerned.
Fia said, "Why does your version of entertainment always sound threatening?"
Elira dropped the box onto the garden table.
"Cards."
Fia relaxed.
Then Elira opened it.
Inside were four decks, stacks of carved tokens, a tiny wooden crown, and several miniature animals.
Lyriel stared.
"What is this?"
"Court of Beasts."
Seraphine groaned.
Fia looked between them.
"You know it?"
"It is a drinking game," Seraphine said.
Elira pointed.
"It can be."
Mira folded her arms.
"No alcohol."
"Tea."
"That defeats the purpose."
"Then stakes."
Lyriel sat.
"What stakes?"
Elira's smile became terrifying.
"Truths."
Fia immediately started backing away.
"No."
Elira caught her sleeve.
"Oh, absolutely."
Seraphine smiled.
Now Fia knew betrayal.
Mira said, "Nothing medically stressful."
"Why does everything have a medical category?"
"Because you're all exhausting."
The rules turned out to be simple.
Everyone drew cards representing animals in a fictional court.
Foxes could steal tokens.
Lions could challenge.
Owls could inspect hands.
Ravens exchanged information.
Dragons did whatever they wanted because apparently whoever invented the game had no sense of balance.
Fia drew Dragon.
Elira stared.
"No."
Fia smiled.
"What?"
"Rigged."
"You shuffled."
"Destiny cheated."
Lyriel adjusted her glasses.
"Technically, given her current classification—"
"Do not bring F.I.R.E. into cards."
Fia placed the tiny wooden crown on her head.
"I am the dragon queen."
Seraphine stared at the crown.
Then at Fia.
"Careful."
Fia smiled.
"Jealous?"
"Deeply."
Elira slammed down a Lion.
"I challenge the dragon."
Fia looked at her hand.
Then calmly played a card labeled **HOARD**.
Elira read it.
Her face fell.
"What does this mean?"
Lyriel read over her shoulder.
"The Dragon claims all court assets currently touching the table."
Fia slowly pulled every pastry plate toward herself.
Elira gasped.
"You monster."
Fia took a pastry.
"I was born for destruction."
Mira laughed.
The game deteriorated immediately.
Within twenty minutes:
* Seraphine had somehow amassed most of the political tokens.
* Mira controlled every healing card.
* Lyriel had turned information mechanics into an intelligence network.
* Elira had declared war on everyone.
* Fia had accidentally become wealthy through pastry theft.
Then came the truth rule.
Elira lost a challenge.
Fia smiled sweetly.
"Truth."
Elira groaned.
"Fine."
Fia thought.
"What was your first thought when you realized you were actually in love with me?"
Elira's entire face changed.
"Oh."
Seraphine became interested.
Mira looked over.
Lyriel closed her book completely.
Elira glared at them.
"You're all enjoying this."
"Yes," Seraphine said.
Elira looked at Fia.
Her teasing expression softened.
"My first thought?"
Fia nodded.
Elira rubbed the back of her neck.
"I thought, 'This is going to hurt.'"
The table quieted.
Fia blinked.
Elira smiled faintly.
"You were sick. Reckless. Powerful enough to scare me. Stubborn enough to make death look like a scheduling inconvenience."
Fia winced.
"That bad?"
"Worse."
Elira continued.
"I knew loving you meant there was a chance I'd watch you die."
Her voice became quieter.
"And I did it anyway."
Fia's chest tightened.
Elira looked directly at her.
"Then I realized the scary part wasn't loving you."
"What was?"
"Imagining not doing it."
Fia looked down.
Mira's hand found hers beneath the table.
Elira cleared her throat.
"And now I demand revenge."
Fia looked up.
Elira pointed.
"Your turn."
"I didn't lose."
"I don't care."
Seraphine nodded.
"I support this abuse of procedure."
Fia looked betrayed.
Lyriel said, "Motion carried."
Mira squeezed Fia's hand.
"You can refuse."
Fia thought.
Then smiled.
"No. It's okay."
Elira leaned forward.
"What do you want most after the war?"
That question hit harder than expected.
Fia opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
She looked around the table.
Four women waited.
No pressure.
No expectation.
She had spent so much time imagining survival as the goal that she had never really developed plans beyond it.
"I…"
Her eyes drifted toward the gardens.
"I want a house."
Seraphine blinked.
Elira blinked.
Lyriel blinked.
Mira smiled.
"A house?" Seraphine asked.
"Not the palace."
The queen looked mildly offended.
Fia laughed.
"I like the palace."
"Careful."
"But I want somewhere smaller."
She began seeing it as she spoke.
"A place outside the capital. Maybe near the mountains. Big kitchen."
Mira nodded approvingly.
"A garden."
Lyriel asked, "Herbs?"
"Some."
Elira said, "Training yard."
"No."
"Yes."
"Small training yard."
"Deal."
Fia continued.
"Library for Lyriel."
Lyriel's expression softened.
"A real clinic nearby for Mira."
Mira squeezed her hand.
"A room where Seraphine can work when she inevitably refuses to stop being queen for more than six minutes."
Seraphine smiled.
"And Elira?"
Fia looked at her.
"A very tall fence."
Elira stared.
"Why?"
"To keep you from bothering the neighbors."
Everyone laughed.
Elira threw a card at her.
Fia caught it.
Poorly.
It bounced against her chest.
Still counted.
Fia smiled.
"And bedrooms."
Elira's grin returned instantly.
Mira's face warmed.
Lyriel pretended to inspect the cards.
Seraphine raised one eyebrow.
Fia became red.
"I meant enough bedrooms for everyone."
Elira leaned forward.
"Coward."
"Behave."
"I'm just saying architecture can be flexible."
Mira threw a token at her.
Elira dodged.
Fia covered her face.
Seraphine quietly whispered near Fia's ear:
"I rather like flexible architecture."
Fia nearly fell out of the chair.
Seraphine looked extremely pleased with herself.
---
Lunch became a picnic.
Not because anyone planned it.
Because Elira refused to return indoors.
So servants brought baskets into the garden, and Seraphine dismissed everyone after the food arrived.
They ate under the willow tree.
Cold meats.
Bread.
Soft cheese.
Fruit.
Pickled vegetables.
Honey cakes.
Fia ate more than Mira expected.
Mira tried not to look too pleased.
Fia noticed anyway.
"You're doing the face."
"What face?"
"The healer victory face."
"I have no such face."
"You do."
Elira nodded.
"She does."
Lyriel added, "Approximately here."
She pointed toward the corner of Mira's mouth.
Mira glared.
Seraphine took another honey cake.
Fia watched her.
"You have eaten four."
"Queen."
"That is still not an explanation."
"It remains my explanation."
Afterward they lay in the grass.
All five.
No dignity.
No titles.
Fia stretched out on her back with her cloak folded beneath her head.
Seraphine lay beside her.
Mira rested near Fia's shoulder.
Elira sprawled with one arm across her eyes.
Lyriel lay on her stomach reading.
Fia stared at the clouds.
"Do you think this is what normal people do?"
Elira answered first.
"Normal people are imaginary."
Lyriel said, "Statistically incorrect."
"You know what I mean."
Fia smiled.
Seraphine turned her head.
"Do you want normal?"
Fia thought.
"No."
The answer surprised her.
She continued.
"I think I want ordinary things."
Mira looked at her.
"There's a difference?"
"Yes."
Fia watched a cloud drift across the blue.
"Normal feels like I'm trying to become someone else."
She reached toward Seraphine.
Their fingers intertwined.
"Ordinary feels like breakfast."
Mira took her other hand.
"Sleeping too late."
Elira lifted her arm.
"Winning card games through magical corruption."
"I did not cheat."
Lyriel murmured, "Debatable."
Fia laughed.
"Walking nowhere."
Seraphine said, "Arguing about curtains."
"You are never letting that go."
"No."
"Cooking badly."
Mira frowned.
"Who is cooking badly?"
"Elira."
Elira sat up.
"I cook."
"Setting meat on fire isn't cooking."
"Fia literally uses fire for everything."
"That is different."
Lyriel looked up from her book.
"Technically—"
Four voices said, "No."
Lyriel lowered her book.
Fia smiled.
"Ordinary things."
Seraphine squeezed her hand.
"Then we'll have them."
Fia looked at her.
"You always say things like they're decrees."
"They are."
"You can't order the future."
Seraphine's expression softened.
"No."
She brought Fia's fingers to her lips.
"But I can make room for it."
Fia went quiet.
That sentence joined the collection of things these women said that she intended to remember forever.
---
The afternoon became warmer.
Fia fell asleep.
Not accidentally through illness.
Not after collapsing.
Not because medicine dragged her under.
She simply got tired.
Her eyes closed.
And she slept.
When she woke, she discovered her head in Seraphine's lap.
A blanket covered her.
Mira sat nearby reading.
Elira was teaching Lyriel how to throw a small knife into a wooden target.
This was going badly.
"No," Elira said. "Stop calculating."
"I am not calculating."
"You stared at the target for thirty seconds."
"I was assessing variables."
"That's calculating."
Lyriel threw.
The knife hit the target sideways and fell into the grass.
Elira looked physically wounded.
Fia started laughing.
Lyriel turned.
"You are awake."
"And apparently just in time."
Elira pointed toward Lyriel.
"She has no soul for blades."
"I have a perfectly acceptable soul."
"You just insulted that knife's entire lineage."
Mira looked toward Fia.
"How do you feel?"
"Good."
Mira waited.
Fia understood.
"Actually good."
Mira smiled.
"Good."
Fia pushed herself upright.
Seraphine's fingers immediately steadied her shoulder.
Fia leaned back against her.
"How long?"
"About an hour."
Fia frowned.
"You let me sleep outside."
Seraphine looked around.
"Yes."
"Without checking on me every ten minutes?"
Mira raised a hand.
"I checked."
Fia sighed.
"Of course."
"Only twice."
"That might be progress."
"It is."
Elira approached holding two practice knives.
"You want to try?"
Four heads turned toward Mira.
Mira considered.
"Three throws."
Elira looked shocked.
"You said yes?"
"Three."
"Who are you?"
Fia stood carefully.
The world remained stable.
No dizziness.
She walked toward the target.
Elira placed the practice knife in her hand.
"Don't overthink."
Lyriel looked offended on principle.
Fia eyed the target.
"How?"
"Point end goes there."
"Brilliant instruction."
"I am a professional."
Fia threw.
The knife spun once.
Twice.
Hit the outer edge of the target.
Stayed.
Everyone stared.
Fia stared.
Elira stared hardest.
"You've done this before."
"No."
"You liar."
"I haven't."
Elira looked toward the heavens.
"Why does she get everything?"
Fia laughed.
The second throw missed entirely.
Elira relaxed.
"Balance restored."
The third bounced off the target and nearly landed near Seraphine.
The queen raised an eyebrow.
Fia froze.
"That was not intentional."
Seraphine looked down at the knife.
Then at Fia.
"Your assassination technique needs work."
Elira doubled over laughing.
Mira said, "Training finished."
Fia walked back to Seraphine and held out both hands.
"Forgive me?"
Seraphine pretended to consider.
"What do I receive?"
Fia leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Seraphine's expression softened immediately.
"Accepted."
Elira stared.
"Corruption."
Lyriel nodded.
"Clear abuse of royal procedure."
Mira added, "Highly effective."
Fia straightened.
"I'm learning."
---
They stayed outside through sunset.
Someone brought lanterns.
Someone else brought blankets.
Fia suspected Seraphine had arranged it all without admitting she had arranged anything.
The five of them eventually ended up on the terrace overlooking the city again.
The lights below looked like fallen stars.
Fia leaned against the railing.
The breeze stirred her dark hair.
Mira stood behind her and quietly pulled the shawl higher around her shoulders.
Fia didn't complain.
Growth.
Elira leaned against the railing to her left.
Lyriel to her right.
Seraphine stood behind them all, looking over the kingdom.
For a time, nobody spoke.
Then Fia said:
"I think I understand the genre now."
Lyriel looked over.
"F.I.R.E.?"
Fia nodded.
"Fatebound Infernal Romance Epic."
Elira grinned.
"Still sounds incredibly dramatic."
"It is."
Mira asked, "What do you understand?"
Fia looked at the city.
"I thought the 'epic' part meant war."
Seraphine listened.
"The armies. Dragons. Kingdoms. Black Chapels."
She shook her head.
"I don't think that's the important part."
Lyriel's expression turned thoughtful.
"Then what is?"
Fia looked at them.
"The fact that all of that can exist…"
Her smile was small.
"…and we can still have a picnic."
No one said anything for a moment.
Fia continued.
"If the story is about whether someone born for destruction can create a future through love…"
She looked toward Seraphine.
Then Mira.
Elira.
Lyriel.
"…maybe the future isn't one enormous victory."
Her voice softened.
"Maybe it's just getting enough days like this."
Mira's eyes went bright.
Elira looked away suspiciously quickly.
Lyriel removed her glasses and cleaned lenses that were not dirty.
Seraphine stepped forward.
Her arms went around Fia from behind.
Slowly.
Giving her every opportunity to refuse.
Fia leaned back into her.
Mira moved closer.
Then Elira.
Then Lyriel.
Five bodies gathered at a terrace beneath evening stars.
No system appeared.
No prophecy interrupted them.
No bells rang.
Nothing tried to assign meaning to the moment.
Fia liked that.
She turned her head slightly.
"I love you."
The words came easily now.
Seraphine's arms tightened.
"So do I."
Mira kissed Fia's temple.
"Very much."
Elira smiled.
"Hopelessly."
Lyriel adjusted her glasses.
"Inconveniently."
Fia laughed.
"That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said."
"I regret it already."
"No, you don't."
"No."
Lyriel smiled.
"I don't."
Fia closed her eyes.
For once, there was no distant call.
No ancient dragon warning her about the future.
Even Ardentis remained quiet.
Perhaps even an elder dragon understood that some moments did not need commentary.
They stayed together until the air grew cold.
Then Mira ordered everyone inside.
Elira complained.
Seraphine invoked royal authority.
Mira informed her royal authority did not prevent pneumonia.
Lyriel began explaining why Fia's dragon-enhanced thermoregulation theoretically—
"No," everyone said.
They walked inside laughing.
And that night, when Fia fell asleep surrounded by warmth and familiar voices, she did not dream about the Black Chapel.