“Not often.” The rest of her words string themselves between us—it is safer for her to stay because the city is a danger. “I wish it were different. She should be around children her own age.”

A light wind carries over the landscape as we walk together, eventually finding a road that cuts toward the city. The trees lining the forest whisper and sigh to one another as they’re rocked by the wind. It’s a strange sound, both new and comforting at once. The sky above us is a subdued gray blue. Ellian sees me looking up and then does the same.

“I miss it,” she says. “All these years, I thought I might forget what it’s like to go up there. To be free.”

“Do you ever get lonely?” I ask.

“Yes” is her reply. “But less often now. I’ve come to terms with my life. The followers of the goddess are kind and visit when they can. Isla keeps me so busy, sometimes it feels like a whole day has passed before I get a chance to sit down. And, of course, for years, I wasn’t alone.”

I fall quiet again, focusing hard on the road at our feet. I’m not ready to hear about her love for the human man. I still don’t want to believe it is possible. Then again, there is so much I’ve learned in the past days that I barely believe the sky is blue anymore. I know as well as anyone that you can’t fight where your heart wanders. First, mine went to Callen. Then, years later, it fell for Ox.

Both are one year older than me, and while I’d known Callen for years, I met Ox on the training grounds our cohorts shared. I was so proud of Callen when he was chosen to help mentor the trainees specializing in axe fighting, and Ox, too, returned to train the archers.

Six months ago, there was a dance to celebrate High Winter. As with High Summer, many Leonodai try to stay up the entire night. Vera and I had napped most of the afternoon for that exact purpose. The dance was lively, with pairs of dancers entwining themselves in each other’s arms and exchanging glances that were hot with longing. Vera was whisked away by a handsome partner, and I excused myself to find some water. As I poured a glass, Ox came up beside me. He wore a long-sleeved blue tunic with a darker vest over it. I remember because I’d never seen him in something so formal before.

“Hey,” he said. “Happy High Winter.”

“Hi, Ox. Thanks. You too,” I had replied, trying to catch my breath. The music reached a crescendo as the song neared its end. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not usually a High Winter celebration kind of guy.”

I cocked my head to the side. “No?”