“I know,” my mother starts in. “You hate birthdays, but not having a party wasn’t an option, Imelda. Look how happy everyone is. Look how loved you are. Why not try some cake?”

Smiling, my father offers me a plate. I wink at him before taking a bite. My mother has her faults, but cooking isn’t one of them. Her rendition of the traditional three-fires cake has my feet lifting off the ground. The smoked caramel, the roasted chocolate, the burned creams. She powders her version with enough fire dust to have me sweating.

“Why is it so good?” I say, taking an even bigger bite.

“Glad you like it,” she says. “And I’m glad you’re alive to taste it. I’m still having nightmares about that horrendous video. I’m not sure how many more birthdays I’ll get to celebrate with you. Makes me glad we’ve thrown a proper party to celebrate you before you go off and try another stunt like that.”

Father sees an opening. “Can’t believe you stuck the landing.”

We share a grin before Mother can swat away the fun.

“Don’t encourage her.” She uses her glass to gesture at the swirl of bodies all around. “Say hello to everyone, please. Especially the mountain Berus. Their crew traveled through the night to get here. Poor Ismay. And don’t forget to give your great-aunt a kiss.”

Father glances in my aunt’s direction. “Just remember to check a mirror if she decides to kiss back. What shade of lipstick is that anyway? Turquoise?”

“Just thank her,” Mother repeats. “Go on. And do make sure you say hello to the gentlemen at that last table, in the corner. We saw them on our way over and couldn’t resist inviting them. You know them from school, don’t you?”

My eyes skip that way. I let out a groan. The Shor brothers are sitting at the corner table. Farian’s made his way over to them, but the conversation looks like it’s going nowhere fast.

“Very subtle, Mother.”

“What?” she asks, all innocence. “They’re nice boys.”

I give her a scathing look, take a final bite of cake, and start making my way around the room. Like most Dividian birthdays, it’s a great smash of bodies and sound. I’m toasted by some and trapped by others. At one point my little cousin Elna finds her way into my arms. I set her against a hip, spinning her with me to each new conversation. She’s a warm little thing, and she keeps asking me when the dreamnots will be released. Uncle Briel toasts my video, and his two gangly sons launch a hundred questions in my direction. I’m thankful when Aunt Ismay pulls me to a new conversation.