“Make sure they’re good,” he asserts. “And make sure they use a threaded bi-fold method to attach it, or it’ll come off the second someone tries to disarm you with a hilt twist.”

“Noted. Thanks, Crav.”

His blush is faint. “Whatever.”

Suddenly Y’shennria calls for us to come to the table, and we do, all three of us hand in hand.

“Crav’s teaching me sword stuff,” Perriot pipes up, cheek smeared with a bit of pheasant gravy.

“Oh!” I swallow a bite of the seasoned livers Maeve made for us Heartless. “Is he? That’s wonderful. He taught me to duel, you know.”

“Literally everything she knows is because of me,” Crav sniffs, pushing his liver around on his plate.

“Not bad, kid,” Malachite marvels.

“I’m not a kid,” Crav snaps. “I’m a Heartless.”

“Wait…really? You really taught her?” Perriot’s eyes go wide. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so expressive. He used to be so meek and quiet. He’s really grown, a few months older and away from Vetris. Crav and Peligli, on the other hand, have hardly changed at all. A symptom of being Heartless.

Do I change? Have I changed?

It’s the hardest question to ask oneself, and the hardest to answer.

“She’s pretty good at dueling, too.” Malachite smirks at me, his three mouth-scars I gave him stretching scabby-red. “Except when she faints.”

“That was one time,” I grumble. “And it was because of Lucien’s white mercury sword! Hardly something I could control.”

“I’m good at dool also!” Peligli announces, beating her legs back and forth under the table.

“More like drool,” Crav rolls his eyes.

“Would you—” Perriot swallows. “Can you show me, Lady Zera? A real duel?”

Malachite raises a brow at me. “You heard the whelp, Six-Eyes. Do you wanna?”

“Absolutely.” I smile. “Tomorrow you lose, then.”

“I’ll be referee,” Crav asserts, and I grin at him with a twinkle in my eye.

“I heard”—Y’shennria leans in over her sardine fry—“that there was a record number of girls clamoring for blademaster lessons from their fathers after your and His Highness’s duel.”

“Kavar bless me, for I have sinned,” I agree cheerily. “I’ve brought self-defense to the noblewomen.”

Y’shennria’s smile is short-lived, because she and I both realize it across the table. The whole of the dinner realizes it—Lucien most of all. Vetris is gone. The nobility, the common people—who knows how many of them are still alive. If any lived through the attack. We could be talking about the dead, for all we know.

Even the kids recognize the tension and go quiet, Peligli’s legs stilling. The atmosphere strains against itself until the prince breaks it.

“Lady Y’shennria,” Lucien starts. “I’m going to destroy the Bone Tree. It’s the only way to stop my sister.”