In Artimé, Rohan did his best to step into a sort of leadership role, though it was weird because this wasn’t his island or his people. He observed as more and more people and creatures from other islands began to arrive in Artimé, and he knew without a doubt that the good mages of this land had more than a surface knowledge of their neighbors and a relationship with them. They had strong bonds that could only have been built over time. The people from Warbler, Karkinos, and the Island of Shipwrecks were clearly dedicated to the Artiméans. And so were a surprising number of the people in Quill. When they heard that Florence was calling for their help, they flocked to the shore in such great numbers that Aaron had to take a moment to magically extend the lawn so everyone could fit. Even some of the former dissenters begrudgingly joined in, for their lives had been saved multiple times by the fighting teams of Artimé. And perhaps seeing what a civil war could do to their precious land had changed a few of them along the way.

As Florence trained everyone, Rohan watched the seasoned generation of leaders, like Lani and Samheed and Aaron, and the elder scientists like Ishibashi, as well as Queen Maiven, with reverence and respect. He absorbed their moves and decisions and tried to figure out the mental steps they took that led them to make the choices they made. He was a sponge in the middle of the lawn, soaking up the expertise of the ones who’d built such a great example of leadership. And he took Florence’s request seriously. He didn’t want to let her down.

But he missed Thisbe. Desperately. Achingly. She’d brought out the boldness in him, and now that she was gone, some of his courage had left him. He knew he had to flesh it out again on his own, but it wasn’t easy. He was in a foreign land. Anxious about his pria. His love.