Turquoise eyes. Deep skin. Crav. Blond hair, chubby fists. Peligli. A moment of silence where they stare and stare, their jaws open. They’re all right. Alive. All my limbs feel like soft butter. I imagined them dead so many times.

I sink to my knees and hold my arms out.

“Zera!” Peligli’s the first to shriek, launching herself into my arms with such force I’m almost bowled over.

“Peli.” My laugh bubbles up as I clutch her close. “Oh gods, Peli. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me fine!” She can’t stop shrieking, but her puffy-cheeked face becomes very serious all of a sudden. “You fine?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her, and she looks me over warily, picking at my dress like she’s trying to make sure. I feel a familiar brooding presence to my left and look over to see Crav standing there. Still frowning. Still Crav, as ever, and it makes me laugh.

“Hello, Crav.”

“Hello,” he mumbles, and then, “You could’ve sent a letter.”

“Yeah. My bad.” My eyes well up, everything blurry as I reach for him. The words are simple between us, but I know he means so much more, and I know he doesn’t want to hear it from me. Softness in words isn’t his style—but the way he gives when I pull him in to me speaks volumes. The way he wraps his hands around my shoulders and clings speaks books and books, whole trilogies unfolding in his emotions. In mine. In all three of ours.

Lucien and Malachite and Fione leave me to cry and laugh and everything in between. Peligli won’t stop asking where I’ve been, and when I tell her the city, she frowns and says it’s a bad place. Of course she’d say that—she spent all of her young human life there, on the streets. I’m surprised she even remembers it was bad; Heartless lose their memories the moment they lose their hearts. But maybe it really was that bad for her, leaving lingering scars. Scars that, one day, when this war is over, I hope she never remembers. I glance over at Lucien, talking with Fione. Lucien’s made friends with so many of the urchins in Vetris. Urchins like Peligli used to be.

Urchins who might be dead now.

I clutch Peligli closer to me, and she lays her head on my neck.

“Is that your father’s sword?” Crav points to the sheath on my belt. I uncurl and smile at him.

“No. Just the pieces of it. It broke, and Lucien was kind enough to reforge the blade for me.”

“Hrmph.” Crav sniffs. “A warrior should never journey without their sword.”

“You’re right.” I nod. “As soon as I find a proper blacksmith, I’ll have it remade. I promise.”