Dara had been staying at an inn in the small town of Anjeer, about eighty kilometers from the Capital, for the past two weeks. Every other morning since he came, he would walk from his inn to a quaint bookshop at the other end of the market to exchange a book or catch up on news. Now, returning from there with two new books in hand, he was aware of the increased number of women—and some men—in the market, and knew that things would return to normal once he reached the inn.  The gifted turned heads in any small town, attractive ones even more; Dara was both, and while new arrivals didn’t immediately spot his gifts, two weeks was enough time for old timers to see him for what he was and for word to spread.     

“You should come every day,” said a woman, her red gown a bright cut in the line of mud brick walls. “Why must you keep my poor eyes waiting?” 

Dara’s lips curled as his gaze shifted to the seamstress he’d known for years. “You flatter me too much. I’m afraid I might fall for you if I come every day.”

She cackled. “You little punk.”

He grinned and walked on. A group of women who ran an eatery he ate at a few times were the only other people to say hello and he responded with similar courtesy. He didn’t falter under the stares but kept his head bowed, so as not to embarrass the shy or encourage the bold. The attention wasn’t new for him, and he wasn’t impervious to it. It felt good to be wanted. But he had learned long ago such adulation could burn.    

“Dara!” A faintly familiar voice called out from behind him.

He stopped in his tracks and the watching eyes shifted from him to the caller. A ripple went through his eyes. He turned around. 

Fia waved, grinning as she ran up. “Thank God, you heard me!”

Dara stared at her, his expression unreadable.

“You’re alone; where’s Pekka? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you alone before.”

Nothing.

She struggled to maintain her smile. The cheer drained from it with every passing moment until all that remained was the stretch of her lips.

“Fia,” Dara said at last. 

“Yes! Of course! Did you forget my face?” She laughed, aware that he wasn’t asking, just acknowledging. “It hasn’t been that long!”

He waited a painful beat. “Mm. Only six years.”

“Has it been that long?” 

“Yes. It seems I see you every six years.” 

She hadn’t realized it until now, but he was right. “Aha, I have a cycle. Like the moon.” 

“Or an ominous comet.” 

She let out a nervous laugh. Dara was typically pleasant and courteous, and her experience with such people said they didn’t forgive easily. Had they met some years ago when the bitter parting hadn’t completely overshadowed all amiability, maybe he would’ve moved past it easily. But the good times were now over a decade old, long enough to forget friends even without any misunderstandings. Maybe it was too late to mend bridges, but she needed him, and despite the little time they’d actually shared in the past twelve years, she trusted him. So, she soldiered on.

“You’re hilarious! You really haven’t changed.”

His eyebrow lifted, barely. He really hadn’t changed. The bronze circlet and midnight-blue robe were as regal as ever, his keen hazel eyes and brown hair as striking. But though he had a sense of humor, he’d never been hilarious, and now Fia only felt awkward under his gaze.

“It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” 

“Clearly.” 

Fia winced. “I’m here. I’m trying. Cut me some slack.” 

His face eased, and she was glad to see a small smile, curt and composed. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you.” His tone wasn’t as polite as she remembered but better.

“Yes, such a coincidence running into you like this.” That was a lie she didn’t need to tell, and a mistake she was too nervous to admit. “So, how have you been?” 

“Well. You?” 

“Very good; I’ve been great. I’m a better sword fighter now.”

His brow twitched, and she remembered how she’d reduced him to nothing but a weapon expert the last time they met. She rushed to cover the slip.

“And I’ve been traveling and enjoying new food. Did you know that Skadi has twenty varieties of seedchurn? You probably did. But it’s actually their soups that I like the most; they really know how to cook, up there in that cold. I went to Dragon’s breath, got this new robe from there, and this sab—” She froze, one hand on the sabre. Shit.

His gaze dropped to the weapon, then met hers. “It looks nice.”

She let out a breath, relieved and grateful. “It’s not important. I’m just glad to see you. I really am.” She really was. She considered apologizing but couldn’t bring herself to say it. 

Dara stared back wordlessly.

“Where’s Pekka?”

His chest rose and fell. “We’re staying at an inn a few streets ahead. I was out picking up books.”

Fia nodded. “Uh-huh.” 

“You changed your look.” 

“Yeah, it was easier. Everyone knew the scarlet-clad you-know-what, so I stuck to black robes.” She wasn’t fishing for sympathy, but Dara’s eyes softened anyway. She hated pity—except right now, from him. It felt like relief after the cold indifference.

“I’m here with Noah and Akira. And a new friend you haven’t met. He’s from Skadi and he’s a great swords—” She cursed herself internally. To her surprise, Dara let out a small laugh. She smiled sheepishly. 

“You can mention weapons, Fia. It would be hard to talk if you didn’t.” 

She clutched her robe. “I’m sorry, Dara,” she said in a small voice. 

His smile froze, and she braced herself. It was too late to back off now. “I wish I could take back what I said. I’ve regretted it every day since. I thought about apologizing, but I didn’t have the face for it—and then days became weeks, weeks became years. After a while, it just felt too late. But I am sorry. I’ve been sorry for a very long time.” 

Dara stood motionless, stretching time with his unblinking, unreadable gaze. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, finally. “It’s in the past.”

She perked up.  “Well, it’s clearly not, but I’ll take it. An insincere acceptance is still an acceptance. I am shameless, after all, you said so yourself.”

“Why do you think it’s insincere?”

“Because you’re willing to break your strict code of etiquette just to be cold to me, even when we meet after so many years. Now, now, Dara, don’t insult my intelligence.”

The smile that had been playing at the corner of his lips finally broke through, and her spirits lifted. 

“Fia!” Akira’s shout hit Fia like cold water. “You found him!” Akira kicked up dust as she trotted over. “Dara, you handsome devil! Why do you always look better when I see you?” 

Dara smiled and glanced at Fia, who avoided his eyes. “Akira, so good to see you.” 

Fia’s chest tightened at his usual warm tone, one he hadn’t used with her once since they’d met—not even in the brief moments his coldness had melted away.

“Were you looking for me?” He directed the question to Akira but glanced at Fia. 

“We’ve been looking for you for a week,” Akira said. “We knew you’d be here for Raija’s birthday.” It was Raija’s arrival day. 

“Mm, yes, it’s in a few days,” he said. “I’m actually glad she celebrates it; we get a chance to stop and catch up.” 

Fia wished the ground would open and swallow her. If he hated her before, he despised her now—and when he found out why they were here, he would despise her even more. She considered telling him she’d been looking for him to apologize, but gave up the idea immediately. Dara was as sharp as a knife and would easily see through her. It was too late to salvage the situation. Despite her turmoil, she was also in awe of how well he maintained appearances.

“So, why were you looking for me?” he asked. 

“Oh, Fia didn’t mention it?” Akira saw Fia’s pitiable face and paused. “Umm…” She looked back at Dara, who immediately forced a smile. Akira weakly smiled back. 

“Fia didn’t mention it,” he said. “Should we discuss it over a meal? I’m meeting Pekka in an hour. We could get together for dinner.” 

Akira breathed a sigh of relief. Dara could always be counted on to find the right words to break an awkward moment. It was a shame he’d had no such words for Fia earlier.

Fia strengthened her armor of shamelessness and finally found the courage to look up at him. “Yeah, I lied. It wasn’t a coincidence—we knew you’d be here.”

Dara gave her a fake smile, meant to look fake. “Mm, I figured.”

Fia gave another nervous laugh—probably the umpteenth since they’d met. “Daraaa, I panicked. With you and your—” She was about to say gorgeous eyes, but his eyes narrowed in a frightening I-dare-you that made her blood freeze. “With—how awkward it was—meeting you after so long,” she finished.

“I understand,” he said, his tone polite for the first time since they’d met. Fia knew it was more for Akira’s sake than out of sympathy for her, but she had no problem with the charity. 

She forced a smile. “Let’s meet for dinner, then. At the place down the road, on the corner?”

He nodded and left after small pleasantries with Akira.

Akira turned to Fia as soon as he was gone. “Why’d you say you ran into him by coincidence?” 

“It just came out!” Fia squealed. “I panicked—he was being so difficult!”

Akira frowned. “What do you mean? Have you gone back to being unable to talk to him?” 

“No! He was so cold. He even called me an ominous comet!”

“An ominous comet?” 

“Forget it. He hates me. He hasn’t gotten over it. I hoped his manners would at least keep him from being mean, but he was ruthless.” 

“I have a feeling you’re exaggerating.” 

“You have no idea.” Fia shook her head. “But I can handle it. He can be rude to me all he wants—but he clearly still likes you and Noah. If I grovel enough, he might do it for you and put up with me.”

Akira shrugged. “I hope you’re right.”

---

Noah, Andrik, Akira, and Fia settled at a table in the back of the eatery. A few other tables were taken, each noisier than the last, and lined with glass jars holding a blooming balaboo suspended in champagne liquid—balaboo wine. Fia casually suggested to Akira that she order some for their guests. Dara didn’t drink, but at least it would put Pekka in a good mood. Akira preferred an intoxicated Pekka any day, so she was happy to oblige, which made Fia feel less guilty. 

“Was it really that bad?” Noah asked. 

“It was bad, Noah,” Fia said. “The only time he cut me an ounce of slack was when he felt sorry for me for being—you-know-what.” 

“Maybe you should use that,” he suggested. 

“And what about that giant ego?” Akira retorted.

“No, no ego.” Fia hung her head. “I am willing to bow down to him if it would make a difference. I owe him a lot more.” 

“Don’t worry, Fia,” Akira said. “He will come around. I did, didn’t I?” 

Andrik, who had gone to replenish his snacks, arrived at the table just then. “Who will come around?” he asked. 

“It seems our flying friend has a grudge against Fia, but he’ll come around,” Akira said. 

“Why does he have a grudge against you?” Andrik asked Fia. 

“Oh, you know,” she said, ”I told you I was a bit rude when I left. Just that, nothing major.”

Andrik scoffed. “You’d lost a friend, and he’s holding a grudge because you didn’t curtsy to him enough?”

Fia shook her head. “Andrik, I was a bit of a… what’s the word… “ 

“Bitch,” Akira said, and Noah chuckled. 

Fia smiled and nodded. “Yes, that. So just be nice to him. He’s a good guy.”

Andrik took a deep breath. “Right.”

When Dara and Pekka arrived, Dara shook hands with Andrik, hugged Noah, and waved to Akira across the round table with his usual generous smile, then nodded at Fia with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Fia gave him a big grin just the same. Pekka was easier to deal with. He was distant and expressionless towards everyone, but his eyes lingered on her longer, and he even graced her with more words since they’d met after so long. 

When they took their seats, Fia deliberately took the one next to Dara, asking Noah to move over. This had two advantages. First, she could talk to him easily if an opportunity arose to smooth things out. Second, if that didn’t work, he’d need to turn at an awkward angle to give her a cold stare. As she sat down, Dara looked at her. His brow twitched, but he quickly looked away and said nothing. Pekka sat on Dara’s other side. The wine was poured immediately. 

“So, Andrik, how long have you been in the Garden?” Dara asked. 

Fia was relieved he was being his usual self, at least when everyone was around. 

“Seven years,” Andrik replied. “Five of them with Fia; two before that wandering in Skadi and Five Sisters,” 

“I see,” Dara said. “Did you arrive in Skadi?”

“Yep,” he replied flatly. Fia frowned. Maybe she should’ve been more careful about mentioning her issues with Dara in front of him; the boy had no tact. 

“I hope you arrived in summer,” Dara continued. “Skadi’s winters are nice in their own way, but can be challenging for a new arrival.” 

“Yep,” he replied. It wasn’t clear whether the “yep” was about the winters being bad or him arriving in summer or both, but this time Dara simply smiled and didn’t force conversation. 

“He did arrive in summer,” Fia added just the same. Dara nodded politely.

“Hey, Andrik, did you guys get good trainers in Skadi?” Akira asked. “Ours were the best.” She winked at Dara, and he broke into a smile. 

“I didn’t attend the training,” Andrik said. 

“What? Why not?” Akira asked, and Fia wished she hadn’t. 

“Because the Initiator’s Guild is bullshit,” he said. “Trainers showing off mediocre skills in front of newcomers when they don’t even know what they’re doing themselves. I was sent to one, and the moment I met my trainer, I left.”

Fia figured—hoped—this particular bit of information was not meant as an offence to either of the two trainers at the table. Andrik believed what he was saying and simply lacked the tact not to voice it so bluntly. She glanced gingerly at Dara and Pekka. Both looked unperturbed, Dara even a bit intrigued. 

“So you don’t like the Initiator’s Guild?” Dara asked. 

“It’s bullshit!” Andrik said. “What’s there to like?” 

Dara nodded. “It has its uses. Some people don’t have any survival skills when they arrive. But Fia tells me you’re good with a sword—you must’ve known a lot already.”

“Meh, just a way to get the poor bastards into debt if you ask me.” 

“Indeed, the debt can be a heavy burden. Perhaps some restructuring and rethinking is needed.” 

Excellent, Fia thought. What a wonderful spin to give this idiot’s attitude!

“Hah!” said Andrik. 

Dara’s expression didn’t waver. Pekka had already downed a glass of wine and looked at Andrik with furrowed brows. Fia wondered if her wine plan was going to backfire. 

“What does that mean?” Pekka asked.

“Nothing,” said Andrik. “I just find this forced art of conversation with no meaning quite fascinating.” 

“Andrik!” Fia tried to hide her panic behind a smile. “I think you need to eat something. Your blood sugar seems low.”

Akira stifled a laugh and looked at Fia questioningly. Fia frowned. Why is he making it personal?

“Most of us prefer some art of conversation over none at all,” Pekka said. “If it fascinates you so much, learn some.” Ironic coming from someone whose art of conversation was just as lacking. 

“It’s alright, Pekka,” Dara said with a small smile. “I suppose my small talk can be quite exhausting.”  

Noah glared at Fia, and she took the hint. “I love your hair, Pekka.” It was a short tapered cut with yellow strands falling on his forehead, softening his brow and bringing more attention to his fine jawline.

He nodded his thanks and pointed to her head with his glass. “I like yours.”

“I like it too! I don’t have to comb or wash it for days.”

Dara gave a small chuckle, and Fia’s smile broadened. She didn’t notice Andrik shift, but Dara did. 

They talked about various things over dinner. Akira and Noah’s relationship with Dara and Pekka had evolved over the years—something Fia had missed out on. They were less mentors and mentees now, more like friends. It hurt, having lost so much time, but she was happy they had people they could depend on.

Andrik maintained his strange disdain towards Dara, but Akira, Noah, and Fia actively blocked him from speaking, so at least he didn’t get a chance to say anything rude again. But controlling his face was harder than controlling his mouth, and they couldn’t stop the occasional glares and sniggers he threw Dara’s way. 

“You never told me why you were looking for me,” Dara said to Akira after dinner.

“Ah, yes, Noah can explain,” she said. 

Noah nodded. “Yeah, we need your help with something.” 

“Of course,” Dara said. “Speak your mind. How can I help?” 

“We’ve been trying to retrieve an object of interest,” Noah said. “Well—more than one. We’ve gathered some already. Fia and Andrik have been hunting in Skadi for a few years, and the four of us have been researching their finds for the past few weeks. We still need to find two more, and I think you can help us with both.”

Pekka looked at Dara, but Dara didn’t meet his eyes, staring solemnly at Noah instead. 

“Are you asking Dara for help exclusively or us both?” Pekka said. 

“Well.” Noah paused. “Dara is the expert we need, but we were counting on the fact that he wouldn’t come alone. Our chances of success will increase if you join, and we’d really appreciate it.”

“Are we familiar with these objects of interest?” 

Noah and Fia exchanged a look, bracing themselves for the worst part. “Yes,” Noah said, and Dara’s face darkened. “It’s what Fia was looking for when—when you last met her.” 

“Why do you need me?” said Dara. 

“I think we can do without you,” Andrik said, “but somehow, Noah really wants to take you along.” 

Dara ignored him. 

“We need someone who knows the Dry Lands well—and you can fly,” Noah said.  

Dara looked at Fia. She stared back, unable to read him at all. He turned back to Noah. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. My knowledge of the Dry Lands is rusty, and there are others who can fly.” He stood. “I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I’m afraid it’s best if I do.” He walked away before anyone could react.

Noah looked at Fia, mouth gaping. They’d never seen Dara act this way.

Fia chased after Dara, stumbling over drunken diners that he slipped through like sand. She managed to grab his wrist just as he stepped on the street. 

He pulled his arm away as if singed and glanced back at their table. “What are you doing, Fia? Why are you here?” His voice was sharp. 

“I had to see you. The last time we met, you were really kind to me. It was so much more than I deserved, and I never showed my appreciation or properly expressed my gratitude. Instead, we parted on such bad terms.”

“You feel you didn’t thank me enough for the last favour I did you, so you are here to ask for another one?” 

“Yes. No! Now you’re just making it sound awful!” 

“It is awful!” He turned to leave again. 

“Dara, I already said I’m sorry.” She stepped in front of him this time, and he backed away. 

Neither one of them noticed Pekka approaching from behind until he slung his arm around Dara’s neck. “What’s going on here?”

“I wish I knew,” Dara bit out. 

“Fia, can you please stop clinging to my boy here?” Pekka said with a smile. “Your boyfriend doesn’t seem too happy about it.” To someone who didn’t know Pekka, he looked quite normal—just a happy-go-lucky man.

Fia frowned. “He’s not my boyfriend!” 

“He’s not?” said Dara, and Fia understood why he’d kept moving away from her. 

“Then why did he say he’s been with you for the past five years?” said Pekka. 

“He’s not with me with me,” she said. “He’s been with me the way you are with Dara.” 

“So you’re married?” Pekka asked. 

Fia’s mouth flew open. She looked from Pekka to Dara, who continued to stare at the ground, and then back. Pekka burst out laughing, and Dara pursed his lips. 

“Ha ha, so funny,” she said.

“You should’ve seen her face, Dara,” Pekka said, clinging to his arm. “I waited for you to look, but I couldn’t hold it any longer.” Dara shot him a look, and he stopped laughing.  “Well, he’s clearly into you, Fia,” Pekka said.

“Andrik?” Fia said. “No, he’s not. He has a girlfriend. He’s just a bit protective of me.”

“Why is he protecting you from me?” Dara snapped. “What did you tell him?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything. He just picked up on things and came up with his own story.”

Pekka chuckled. “Maybe you should’ve told him something. Maybe then he’d protect Dara from you.” 

Dara grimaced.      

“Ok, fair enough,” Fia said. “It’s not like I don’t know I was wrong. I’ve apologized so many times, and you’ve had your fun. Can we please move on?” 

Dara shook his head. “Are you saying he’s been giving me shit all evening, and it’s not because his girlfriend chose to sit next to me instead of him?” 

“What? No,” she said. “It’s not like that. He has trouble with authority figures. He just likes to rebel, and then maybe it’s because…”

“Because what?”

“Because he heard me telling Noah that you were still angry at me, so…” She trailed off, embarrassed. 

“Wow, this ought to be fun,” Pekka said. “Anyway, we’ll think about your thing and let you know.”

“We are not thinking about it,” Dara said. “You can count us out.” 

Fia looked at Pekka pleadingly. 

“We’ll think about it, Dara,” Pekka said, knocking his head against Dara’s. Dara flinched. ”Don’t be such a sourpuss,” 

“I knew the wine was a good idea,” Fia said with a grin. 

Dara glared at her. “Seriously, Fia?”

“I’m sorry, Dara. You were so fierce when we met. I was desperate!” 

He shook his head, then sighed. “I should apologize to the others.” 

“You don’t need to,” Pekka said. 

“Yeah, forget about it,” Fia said. 

Dara looked back at their table. Two of the three sets of eyes glued to them turned away immediately. Andrik continued to stare disdainfully, and Dara’s lips curled. “I think I want to.” He ducked out from under Pekka’s arm and strode back inside. His smile gave Fia a sense of foreboding, and she followed, Pekka lagging behind.

“I’m sorry for being so rude earlier,” Dara said rather convincingly. “Pekka and I have decided we will think about it and let you know. I hope you will be around for a few days.”

“Well, thinking is great,” Noah said, standing, “and you weren’t rude.” 

Akira smirked. “Yes, the bar for rudeness was set so high tonight that you still came off as a gentleman.”

Andrik scowled at her. 

Dara smiled. “I will need more information.” He gave Fia a meaningful glance. “Maybe you can brief me on it. It’s been so long; we need to catch up too.”

Andrik’s brow furrowed, and Fia quickly said, “Let’s meet at our inn tomorrow.”

Dara nodded and glanced at Andrik before leaving.   

Once he and Pekka were gone, Fia turned to Andrik. “What the hell got into you? They thought you were my jealous boyfriend.”

Noah laughed. “They will think about it!” 

“Even I thought he was your jealous boyfriend,” Akira said and turned to Andrik. “What the hell, man?”

“You clearly don’t see him for who he is,” Andrik said.

“Oh God…” Fia groaned. “It’s just his culture, Andrik. I’m not supposed to see him for who he is. He’d be ill-mannered if I did.”

“It’s more than that.”

“What did you do to convince him?” Noah asked. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Fia said. “Drunk Pekka is the best! And I think when Dara realized he wasn’t going to be dealing with a jealous boyfriend but just an annoying idiot, he agreed just for the entertainment factor.”

They all snickered except Andrik. 

“I’ll give him entertainment,” Andrik muttered. “Let him come tomorrow.”

“No! You won’t,” Noah said. “Fia, get him in order. He’s going to ruin things. We’re not going without Dara and Pekka.”

“Yes, Andrik,” Fia said. “We need him, so please behave yourself tomorrow. Plus, he’s a good guy, and you were extremely rude.” She looked at him pointedly. “It ends today.” 

Andrik crossed his arms and fell back in his chair. It was the best reaction Andrik was capable of, and it was good enough for her. 

Noah was right: thinking was good. She felt optimistic.