Mii Vun waves off the thanks, tears in her own eyes as she walks toward the shoppe’s back rooms. “I love you two,” she calls over her shoulder as she opens the back door, her voice thick with emotion as she gives them a sly, prodding smile. “Go. And drink that wine.”

Sparrow boldly offers Thierren her hand, ignoring the subtle and not-so-subtle looks of censure from passersby. Thierren’s fingers thread through hers, a stunned look on his face as he takes in their clasped hands. They’ve always shied away from initiating physical closeness, save falling asleep near each other that one time in the desert.

“Sparrow...” he starts. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Sparrow purrs, tracing his finger with her thumb, thrilled to be giving in to her desire to touch him, “that I want to ask you...” Nerves alight once more, as vulnerability cracks open. “To be my Xishlon’vir.”

Thierren’s green eyes widen. He exhales and goes very still. “I would be honored,” he finally says in Uriskal, “to be your Xishlon’vir, Sparrow Trillium.” Her name slides off his tongue, infused with longing.

“But before we go anywhere else,” Sparrow says, flushing at the idea of going back to her apartment, “I’m taking you to the Vuulish Tavern.” She has it all planned—the famed, floral-themed cocktail bar that overlooks the Vo River the perfect place to share a Xishlon kiss.

Their first kiss.

Sparrow flushes over her bold scheming as Thierren’s gaze slides over her silken dress, an ardent warmth lighting in his eyes. “You belong somewhere like that this evening,” he manages throatily. “Somewhere beautiful and covered in flowers, like you. And even with a Crow on your arm, they won’t be able to resist letting you in.”

Sparrow cradles her fragrant violet cordial, Thierren beside her at their corner table on the tavern’s open-air balcony, the Vo River’s warm breeze caressing them both. A wooden trellis supporting vines covered in lavender blossoms surrounds them, the Xishlon moon’s purple light filtering through.

Reclining back in her luxurious floral dress, Sparrow feels like an intrinsic part of the surrounding explosion of blossoms. And the moon’s beckoning pull makes it easier to cast off the shadows of the world for just this one evening, but still, Sparrow’s gaze is ever drawn toward the storm-limned mountains in the distance.

Toward the West.

Where a nightmare is gathering. Threatening this miracle of a realm.

The East has time to strengthen their defenses, Sparrow comforts herself. And both Elloren and Yvan Guryev are aligned with them, the entirety of the Prophecy on their side.

Sparrow looks to Thierren, a warm swell of emotion blooming. “Not long ago,” she says, “you and I were huddled together in the desert, fending off storm spiders and wraith bats. Not knowing which day might be our last. And now...here we are.”