Just as Hassan began to approach, the whole circle erupted into hoots and howls.

“Aww, you’re all going to bleed me dry,” Anton protested, tossing a button into the center of the circle, where several chipped dice sat beside a bowl. He glanced up, his dark eyes locking on Hassan. “Prince Hassan!”

He waved him over, and, somewhat bemused, Hassan joined him.

“You’re a prince?” one of the kids exclaimed loudly, sounding amazed and aghast.

“Oops,” Anton said guiltily. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Hassan said with a wave. “Did you know everyone’s looking for you?”

Anton blinked, surprised. “They are? I must have lost track of time.”

“Jude was worried,” Hassan added pointedly.

Just as pointedly, Anton didn’t answer.

“Dice!” several of the kids hollered.

“I’m pretty sure they’re just conspiring to take all my buttons,” Anton lamented, fingering a loose thread where he’d clearly ripped a button from his jacket.

“Are not!” insisted a small boy with a gap tooth.

“Play with us, mister Prince Hassan!” another kid said, tugging on Hassan’s sleeve.

Hassan sighed. He really should get Anton back to the citadel so they could leave. Instead, he plopped himself down in the circle. “All right. One round. How do we play?”

They explained the rules to him, growing more and more excitable, correcting and talking over one another.

“All right,” Anton said, rubbing his hands together. “Roll ’em again. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

The gap-toothed boy giggled. “That’s what you said last time!”

“Oh, did I?” Anton asked, pretending to think. “Well, this time I mean it. Roll again!”

They played a few rounds, the kids shouting with delight or dismay, their dramatics getting more and more elaborate with every roll. Hassan recalled the Herati refugee children he had played with in those first few weeks in Pallas Athos. Their joy and wonder had been a balm to him.

Now, the cheerful innocence of these children twisted Hassan’s heart. They probably understood, on some level, what was happening in the world around them, but here on the steps in the city they knew so well, they felt safe.

But when winter came, and the Witnesses’s siege persisted, that safety would crumble, and this moment when they’d played dice on the steps would seem endlessly far away and impossible to reach.

“Pieter! Mila!” a voice barked from down the block.

Hassan turned to see what looked like the father of two of the children Anton was currently entertaining.

Spotting the cluster of children, the father marched down the street toward them. “What have I told you about playing in the street?” He grabbed the tiny gap-toothed child and his sister, pulling them to his side. “You know you—” He cut off with a gasp as his gaze fell on Anton.

Anton’s smile froze in place.