There was so much more work to do before they could all fly out. She helped round up prisoners and clear rubble from the city. She cleaned out burned buildings in the lower quarter, salvaged what she could of the boats she’d destroyed, and ran missions to nearby cities for supplies, mainly food. She was weary and ready to go home and not think about war for a hundred years or more.

But she knew that even when she returned, she wouldn’t really rest. She had started a movement for humans and half-Fae in the city. Bringing in all the displaced refugees from the House of Shadows would only swell their numbers. The Society might see them as a problem, but Kerrigan saw it as an opportunity. These people might be refugees, but they deserved fair treatment and a voice in the government as much as anyone else. And if no one else would take up the mantle, she would have to do it.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize she had crossed from the Society holdings over to the gap of land that led to the Bryonican soldiers until one of them hollered, “It’s Lord March’s fiancée!”

She froze at the word. Fiancée. It still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

March stepped out of his tent at those words. A smile lit his face as he found her gaze. She didn’t return the gesture. In fact, all she wanted to do was run as March purposely strode across the camp in her direction.

“Have you come to see us off?” March asked as he got closer.

“Are you leaving then?”

“We’ve done our part. The Society is giving the House of Medallion a reward for our work here.” He beamed. “And I’ll be awarded a medal of honor.”

March, the war hero. Just great.

“Congratulations,” she said. “We’ll remain for a few days to clean up.”

“Hear, hear,” he said with a laugh.

It was maybe the most normal conversation that they’d ever had. He was jubilant. Not an ounce of the venom that he’d had that night at the winter Season party in Rosemont. If she didn’t know he was a snake, she might have even enjoyed his company.

“Well, I’ll just…” She gestured away.

“No need to run off,” he said, catching her hand. “We got off on the wrong foot. You’ve lived your life, and I’ve lived mine. I want to apologize for how I acted this winter. I was… jealous.” He ducked his head, as if he were a fool in love. Gods, he was a triumphant actor.

“It’s fine,” she said, pulling herself free. “I was under an immense amount of stress from the Society. I wasn’t myself.”