My feet are bare as a sign of humility. My hair, which Vera insisted on doing for me, is full of her expensive oils and glossier than it ever has been. With the sentinels’ permission, I bear a white ribbon on my upper arm, in memory of my sister.

My past and present are with me. Before me, my future.

I kneel before the king. He seems to have aged far beyond the time since that fateful day. The proud, noble gaze I’ve always imagined myself seeing when I took the oath has been replaced with a disquieting pain. I know that pain. It binds us together, the way only grief could.

“Rowan An’Talla,” the king says once more. “Do you swear, from this day forth, to serve the Golden City, the Citadel of the West, the Heliana, and all of her people?”

“I do swear,” I answer.

“Do you swear to put loyalty above all, to answer the bells whether they call at first light or the last?”

“I do swear.”

The king accepts a new warrior’s uniform from Sentinel Renna. The latter meets my eyes, her gaze going to the ribbon on my arm. As the King’s Voice, Shirene would have been the one to hand me my robes. I accept the uniform, keeping my eyes low as they well up with tears.

“Rise, warrior,” says the king.

And I rise.

Ox and I skip the celebrations. We’re at our usual place on the rooftop, no longer lying together but content in each other’s company. Ox had smuggled up a small picnic of celebratory treats, which we munch on idly. My appreciation for food has doubled since our return. Below us, the Hall is lit from Underbelly to ceiling with congratulatory calls. The city beyond us, though still under repair, is lit with lanterns and the smaller celebrations between family members.

It’s strange to look down at my own body and see cobalt blue. The fabric of the robes is finer than my old one and ten times as soft. The king’s pardon is no small gift, and I carry it in my mind always.

As I have for many nights now, I look to the east.

“You know where Callen is,” says Ox. “Why not just go?”

“I’m not going to test the king’s mercy twice,” I retort. “Callen wouldn’t have known the ceremony was changed to today.”

Ox pours another half glass of wine and hands it to me. “Nothing’s going to stop him from flying straight back once he hears. This is your moment, warrior Rowan.”

“Thank you, Ox,” I reply, holding his gaze. “For everything.”