So when the time came for competitors to check in for the race, I didn’t go.

Back in the present, I step back into a sheltered archway and try to gather my wits. I run a hand through my hair and try to shake my nerves. I’ll have to get her alone somehow. I press the pads of my fingers into the stone wall behind me.

Then, before my courage leaves me, I round the corner and call out her name.

It’s Vera who sees and greets me first. “Hey, Callen, happy High Summer!” She cocks her head to the side. “It’s a shame you didn’t race today. I was all ready to cheer for you.”

By this point, Rowan has seen me, too. She waves, letting go of Ox’s hand as she does. “Hey,” she says, greeting me with a hug like she always has. Only it feels different this time. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You didn’t race,” she says. “It’s all you’ve talked about since last winter.”

“Yeah, actually,” I reply. “It’s nothing important. But I did want to talk to you, really quickly. If you have time.”

“Oh.” She gives me a look, but nods. “Yeah, okay.”

She parts with the others, saying that we’ll catch up. I try not to grin with vindication at how quickly she agrees to come with me. We’ve been best friends since we were kids—even now, that connection is strong. I still matter to her.

Once it is just the two of us, I turn toward the palace. I take a shortcut through a narrow alleyway. The shouting of children above us makes me look up.

There are three of them, two girls egging on a third to make the jump from one rooftop to the next. They are about five or six years old—just old enough to be growing into the full extent of their magic, including shape-shifting for the first time. Each of the kids is dressed in what I guess are their best festival dresses, but the dirt on their hands and elbows tells me exactly what they are doing.

Rowan sees where I’m looking and smiles. “We used to do that,” she says. “Remember? Jumping and trying to change into a lion at the same time.”

“To see if we had enough magic to shape-shift, yeah. I remember,” I reply. “I also remember you insisting we try on a wider gap than this one.”

“And we both made it across fine, even when we couldn’t transform yet,” she says. “We’re alive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, wishing my heart weren’t racing as it is. I run a hand across my brow and through my hair, cringing at the nervous sweat.

“So,” Rowan asks, adjusting the sash on her waist. “Where are we going?”