Fiddle music swept through the camp. Zofi collapsed against a bench, breathless after her eighth dance in a row. Across the flickering bonfire, she caught sight of Elex and Ora, lips locked in a kiss. She smiled to herself and glanced away. No unpleasant sting of jealousy accompanied the sight. She felt only happiness, for his sake. Elex deserved that kind of joy after everything he’d been through.

Opposite the flames from him, Mother was holding court. She listened to a pair of newer members ask questions about the crop cures. The band planned to divide in the morning—Norren and Rull would lead a group to the far west, Mother would lead another to the towns along the Western and Central border, and Zofi would take the remainder into the swamplands south of here, dotted with tiny secluded towns most Kolonyans didn’t even know existed.

Zofi wanted to be sure those encampments got the cure, too, same as any larger settlement.

Tomorrow would begin a long few weeks of travel. Navigating boggy terrain on oft-outdated maps, since villages in this region tended to shift with the tidal marshes they lived on.

Tonight, however, they celebrated. Not only did the band toast Zofi’s return, albeit a temporary one. They also reveled in their new status. They were an official Reach now, with an ambassador of their own. A voice.

It wouldn’t change everything overnight. It would be a long road to get to the future Zofi imagined, where her people were treated just like any other citizen in the Reaches. But this was the start.

“Ambassador.”

She started. Turned to find Norren standing beside the log she was reclining on. Zofi laughed. “You don’t need to call me that, Norren.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But I’d like to speak to you in your official capacity, so I figured I’d use the official title.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Of course. What is it?”

“Well.” He paused. Then he drew a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. He’d written a list as long as her arm, she realized, in cramped handwriting that made her eyes ache just to squint at it. “I have some suggestions I’d like to make.”

She snorted. “Just a few?”

He plopped onto the log beside her. “This is the preliminary list,” he assured her with a wink. “Things you ought to bring to the attention of this council you’re on.”

Zofi set aside the mug of Heine’s moonshine she’d been about to start on. “I’m all ears, Norren.”

As the night progressed, more and more people drifted her direction. Eventually, about halfway through Norren’s neverending list of suggestions, others joined in, shouting changes to his ideas, adding thoughts of their own.