As Althea soared toward the market, wild golden curls caught in the wind, she looked up to confront the endless sky, where only a few pale clouds failed to guard the naked sun smiling down upon her. She smiled back. A mistake, as is turned out, as she ran full-speed into a cloaked stranger who grunted and fell to the cobble-stoned ground.

  “I am so sorry,” Althea apologized, out of breath and towering over the crumpled man, who was dressed in all black despite the heat of the sun. “Are you hurt?”

  The man winced, shaggy head curled over the hand he was holding, scuffed on the stone, bleeding sluggishly.

  “Nothing to worry about,” he said, his voice quiet and strained.

  She didn’t have time to waste, so rather than worry about his reaction or draw this out, she grabbed his hand and held on despite his flinch, focusing her green senses on the wound until she called the flesh to knit itself back together. She thought of how she and Arévis had to make it in time to the tavern later for Terran’s performance.

  He gasped and looked at his hand in what she presumed was awe.

  “Wow, thank you for – ”

  “Anyway, I’ve gotta go,” Althea interrupted, and turned away before he could lift his head. “You should be fine now!”

  She flew through the crowded street, dodging people with more care and making sure to keep her eyes in front of her instead of up.

  Althea could feel the invigorating warmth of the sun tingle on her skin as she hopped with calloused soles on the warmed stone of the Lantris market path.

  She bounded past the heady smells of fresh fish, oils, incense, and sweat from sea travel, hard work and toasting too long in the afternoon sun. The cacophony of sounds was drowned out by the way the sunlight played on the bright colors of Aridian linen, and the glint of metal and jewels. Aridian merchants yelled with heavy accents, advertising their goods fervently. Their skin shimmered in golds, browns, and blacks, so different from the paler shades of Lantris’ people. It brought a smile to Althea’s face. She loved the market here, right at the end of the river delta, near the coast, where trade was good. There were so many interesting travelers with stories of pirates and distant lands. Most of all, there were stories of foreign gods and magic—stories of places that were still at war.

  She and Arévis had poured over books that they would have never found at Isold’s academy. The histories some merchants brought were older, sometimes written in Ancient Aridian. Althea had tried to learn once, but other things had seemed more important at the time than relics of a place she wasn’t born in and had never been to.

  In the distance, she could just make out one of Isold’s ice bridges, used to transport water into Lantris, the only home she had known. From what she had heard and read about, Lantris was pretty boring. The city council didn’t want to murder Queen Theophilia. There was no threat of invasion from their foreign neighbors. Even Althea, who was only the daughter of fishers, had been fed, sheltered and educated for as long as she could remember.

  Despite the lack of excitement, Lantris was beautiful. The ice structures, frozen even in the cheerful sunlight, had been there for centuries. Her instructors at the academy had taught her that Isold, the goddess herself, had constructed them with powerful magic that rendered them invulnerable to destruction.

  “Althea!” A merchant roared as she flew past him. She doubled back, curious.

  “What is it?” She stopped to take a look at Harim’s wares.

  “Look what I have for you—silks from Aridia. You better get some before they are all sold out! I got a great deal on some things I know you will like.” He said, pleased with himself. He wore bright silks of red and gold himself, a walking ornament. Althea’s eyes lit up as a deep blue dress caught her eye. Harim knew her too well.

  “I really shouldn’t spend so much,” Althea said as she touched the beautiful material.

  “You always say this,” he said, smiling with a glint in his eye.

  “And then I always buy something anyway,” Althea mumbled, knowing that she wouldn’t leave without the dress. She grabbed some silver from her pocket and placed in Harim’s waiting hand.

  “Thanks, Harim!” She called, and sprinted off again.

  “What? That’s it? You don’t want another scarf or a skirt?” Harim’s voice became smaller in the distance.

  The sun might be slowly setting, but there was still time to run to Arévis’ and drag her friend into the welcoming coolness of the river. It was the only way to get her into the sun, anyway.

  The din of the market lulled away into endless trees and dirt pathways to a more isolated spot of land by the river. This is where Arévis lived, in a small cottage that the queen and Isold had agreed to lend her. She had claimed that she’d live in the woods before she went back to Isold’s orphanage. After what happened a year ago, Althea thought this was the city’s way of letting her recover.

  Althea slid past pretty, young trees, the smell of their sap sweet. The sun dappled the cool, sandy ground she sunk her feet into. It tickled her eyes through her lashes, made the world full of leaf green, sky blue, and sand white.

  She padded towards the hidden grove, so near to the river that Arévis loved. It was quiet here, away from the bustle of the academy they both attended. Althea had just returned from her studies, but this is where Arévis studied now. She borrowed books from the library and wrote in her home, visiting the academy only for tests and to gather more work, more knowledge to consume. Arévis was always hungry.

  Althea knocked politely on the door of the small stone cottage, repressing the urge to burst in unannounced. Though she was sure Arévis wouldn’t mind her presence, Althea didn’t want to find herself on the other end of a ferocious ice spell.

  She hid the blue dress behind her.

  She heard a quiet, “Come in.”

  Behind the creak of the door sat Arévis, head over her scribe table, scribbling furiously with charcoal. Her eyes were shadowed as they flickered toward her, but a small smile graced her lips.

  “You’re back before sunset,” Arévis stated. Her voice was always steady, always quiet.

  “I finished my work early since it’s my last day until the harvest.” Althea announced, noting that Arévis hadn’t.

  “And here I thought you were a fast writer,” she teased. “Or were you procrastinating again?”

  Arévis smiled that faint smile again. “This is a project of my own. A continuance of an old one, actually.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  She put the charcoal down and turned toward Althea, who was bouncing on her toes in anticipation.

  “Did I promise we’d swim today?” Arévis asked, amused.

  “You did,” Althea said, folding her arms.

  Arévis nodded.

  “A night swim might be nicer.”

  “Not if you want to stay warm,” she quipped.

  Arévis rolled her eyes as if Althea’s priorities were all wrong.

  “Well, the ground is starting to move,” Arévis admitted. A wisp of hair, pale ash in color, fell into her face despite her effort at pinning it back. “Perhaps it’s time to take a break.”

  Althea nearly squealed in joy, dancing happily around the tidy single room of the cottage. “Tea before we go?”

  Arévis nodded, seemingly in no hurry. It did nothing to quell the buzzing excitement in Althea. It was the beginning of summer, when she studied less and fished more, spent more time with her dearest friends. Part of the reason she was back before sunset was because the days were getting longer. Arévis didn’t seem to notice.

  Althea threw the dress into Arévis’ dressing chest for later.

  As Arévis fingered the dried tea leaves hanging in her cramped kitchen, Althea continued her dance, twirling around and ogling the bookshelves.

  “What is the project you’re working on now?” She asked, deeply curious.

  “How to solve an energy problem…” Arévis mumbled, opening a large chest instead of preparing something new. A gust of cold settled in the air.

  “Useful,” Althea said, eyeing the chest.

  “Not until I’ve solved it,” she replied.

  “I meant your ice chest. You’ve enchanted it to keep things cool. You could sell it to the queen herself for a fortune!” Althea exclaimed.

  “It won’t last forever,” Arévis dismissed, pouring the tea from a clay jug that she lifted from the chest. “I’d have to keep enchanting it.”

  Althea smiled nonetheless. “Have you shown this to your advisor at the academy?”

  “No need,” Arévis said, handing her a clay cup. “The academy has taught me all I can learn there.”

  Arévis gestured for her to take a seat at a humble dining table with stone chairs. Althea frowned slightly, but sat, sipping the peppermint iced tea.

  “You’re leaving the academy…” Althea said in disbelief.

  “You should leave too,” Arévis suggested. “You know that Isold’s Academy isn’t suited to your type of magic, anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t want to leave Terran here,” she said, avoiding her best friend’s eyes.

  Arévis smiled at that, sipping at her tea. “Is this where you see your future?”

  Althea honestly thought no. She belonged somewhere where she could make a difference—somewhere that needed her. Lantris didn’t need someone to make it better. It wasn’t like the places the merchants spoke of, drenched in blood and battle magic.

  “Convince Terran to come with you,” Arévis said in that maddeningly calm voice.

  “I don't think the places I want to go need someone to sing their tales for them,” Althea lamented.

  “Maybe, but if you take him with you, all that unrequited love you’ve been bottling up inside will have no choice but to free itself.”

  Althea frowned at her. “Not funny.”

  Arevis rolled her eyes. “He’s not listening through the walls.”

  Althea folded her arms.

  “This is the best place for him—where he’ll be appreciated the most.”

  “Not necessarily true,” Arévis insisted. “Perhaps the most chaotic places need his songs and tales the most. Perhaps they need him to tell the world their tales.”

  Althea looked at her then, into the depths of her blue eyes, dark like the ocean. She thought she saw weariness there, a shadow that had come when she had returned to the academy.

  “Do you want to leave because of what happened to your guild?” Althea asked seriously.

  Arévis’ weariness intensified, and she looked suddenly full of despair. The look deadened quickly into one of emptiness.

  “Let’s go before the sun sets, Althea,” She said with a small smile of reassurance.

  She had never talked about what happened only a year ago. Arévis returned from a trip to the forest her guild had gone on, ragged, alone, and more silent than usual. Althea only heard about it through gossip at the River’s End tavern—her guild had been slaughtered by bandits as they returned from the forest. Only Arévis had survived.

  “You’ll never tell me about it, will you?” Althea sighed, rising from the table.

  Arévis said nothing as she put the tea away.

  “Come on!” Althea laughed, soaking up the sunrays in the cool water of the river. She had stripped off her light dress and dove like a fish into the gentle current.

  Arévis stood, perched atop their favorite diving rock. She eyed the shadier parts of the water, under the friendly grove. Seemingly quelled, she jumped in, curled up like a stone, and swam to the shade.

  “The whole point was to get you some sunlight!” Althea roared with delight, diving under and surfacing near her friend, flinging the water from her unruly mane of hair.

  “Not all of us are descended from Aridians,” Arévis complained. “You have the golden skin of your ancestors who tamed the desert. Of course the prospect of burning doesn’t frighten you.”

  Althea laughed, utterly delighted. “Plenty of fair folk venture into the sun daily. Some of them even get a tan.”

  Arévis just smiled and closed her eyes in appreciation of the water.

  “Remember when we used to play here as kids?” Althea remarked. “We’d make boats out of driftwood and sail around playing pirates.”

  Arévis’ smile spread. “Yes.”

  “Those were happy times, weren’t they?”

  She could hardly think of times that weren’t happy at the moment.

  “Anything was better than the orphanage,” Arévis muttered. Her mood was like a raincloud settling over the sky.

  Althea remembered Isold’s orphanage as well. They had both been there as young children. Althea had been adopted by her fisher parents as a young child. She begged and begged for them to take Arévis too, but they were too poor for a second, they had said. Arévis had been too withdrawn. They wanted a normal, lively child to play and learn to fish. It came as quite a shock when she told them that the sun beckoned her. Magic was for the oddballs of the orphanage, not for children like her.

  She had been sent to Isold’s academy to study, as well as Arévis. But not before years had passed—years where no one had adopted Arévis, and she remained without Althea before they were reunited.

  “I always feel bad that I abandoned you,” Althea said with regret.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Arévis reassured. “It wasn’t you who abandoned me.”

  “Were—were the other children cruel to you after I left? Besides Gabriel, I mean.” Althea asked.

  “No more cruel than usual.” She shrugged. “But I felt trapped in my own mind. They heard me speak about why the sky was crying and didn’t know how to react. I don’t blame them.

  “It still sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” Arévis laughed.

  “Not to me,” Althea chuckled, though she was sure her parents would agree.

  “That’s right,” Arévis smiled. “You understand.”

  They swam for a while until the sun began to set.

  “Don’t you feel better?” Althea asked as they gathered their clothes.

  “It was refreshing,” Arévis conceded, sighing in contentment.

  The sand clung to her wet feet as they walked back to Arévis’ cottage.

  “Will your parents worry if you don’t return soon?” Arévis asked. She lit candles around the little room as they huddled around the barren fireplace where cushions were laid out.

  “No,” Althea said. “They know I’m old enough to take care of myself now, hard as they seem to find it that I’m 17.”

  Arévis eyed her carefully. “Then when will you live on your own?”

  “I don't know…” Althea contemplated this. “Do you really think I’ve learned all I can at the academy? I still haven’t mastered higher level pyromancy…”

  “But healing magic is where your true skill lies. They can teach you no more here. You should find a guild in Aridia,” she suggested.

  “Is that where you’re going?” Althea asked.

  “At first, maybe. I want to travel everywhere, Thea,” Arévis said, her eyes lighting up, “I want to study every history and magic book that I can come across. I want to learn every language and observe every government. I want to sail the seas until I reach the end of the earth.”

  “Arévis, the traveler, they’ll call you!”

  “Perhaps that will be my legacy…”

  Althea laughed and shook her head. “No. You’re destined for much greater things than just that.”

  “That’s what they used to tell me.”

  Althea sensed her melancholy coming on again, and pulled her up from the cushion.

  “Let’s go to the tavern!” She said, excited. “We have all the time in the world!”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” argued Arévis, walking with Althea as she dragged her along by hand to her wardrobe.

  “Don’t you have anything besides robes?” Althea scolded.

  “Robes are comfortable and light. Why would I need anything else?” She said, rather annoyed.

  Althea ran to Arévis’ chest where she had thrown the deep blue dress haphazardly. It would fall just above Arévis’ knees and had had a tie in the back. It was comfortable enough that Arévis would wear it.

  She threw it into Arévis’ hands.

  “Where did you get this?” Arévis said in a low voice.

  “Where do you think? Harim, obviously.” Althea said cheerfully.

  “I can’t take this.” Arévis said, folding up the delicate piece of silk and offering it back.

  Althea rolled her eyes and shoved it back into her hands.

  “It’s nice enough that you won’t look like a stuffy, old priest.” Althea grinned.

  Arévis gave her a look, but seemed to concede at that, and changed quickly, moving to wrap her hair up again.

  “Let it free!” Althea said, stealing the pin and setting it on her wardrobe.

  “I don’t even want to go,” she argued.

  Althea ignored her, and grasped her hand again so that they could run in the fading light to the inner city. After all, Terran would be playing tonight.