She raised a querying brow but said nothing at first, merely passed the bird’s nest to a Middling boy who was tagging along behind a High family, apparently hired for the purpose of carrying the children’s purchases from Middling vendors. He already carried several toys for the High children, who were pulling their parents toward the next stall. When the Middling boy saw the nest, he immediately crammed it all into his mouth, his eyes closing in delight.

Sid turned to me. “Why don’t you like it anymore?”

“Sugar reminds me of Raven.”

“I don’t want her to spoil things that bring you pleasure.”

“My memory is too good.”

“Yes,” she said. “I see. Maybe with time.”

“People say that only because for them time softens their memories. They forget. I can’t.” Nothing would soften my memory of Sid when she left.

“I was jealous,” Sid said. “I was jealous of Aden. The jealousy was how I knew I was in trouble.” She saw my startled expression and added hurriedly, “If you didn’t see what I felt, please don’t think you are somehow blind or broken. I didn’t want you to see it. I am good at hiding things. Everyone, even without your history, can miss what people desperately wish to hide.”

“Oh? Desperately?”

She rubbed the nape of her neck, casting me a look both sheepish and sly.

“You saw when I was jealous,” I said.

She grinned. “Of Lillin? Mmm, yes. But I shall tell you a secret.” Her soft cheek slipped against mine as she leaned forward and touched her lips to my ear. “I saw you the moment you arrived at the party in your silver dress, my serious little moonbeam, and I thought”—her mouth brushed delicately over my stuttering pulse—“how can I make her mine?”

“Poor Lillin.”

“I’m afraid I was a bit bad.”

“You went out of your way to make me jealous.”

“Did it work?”

“You know it did.”

“I do, but your honesty in admitting it demands a reward.” Her mouth glided down my neck. Her teeth nipped my throat. Her hand slipped into my dress pocket and traced patterns through the thin lining against my thigh.

I whispered, “You are trying to make me forget about the sugar.”

“Am I?”

“You don’t want me to be sad.”

“Never sad. Not you.” She kissed me. I tasted her mouth, sweet from the bird shell, and as I kissed her I yearned for more.

It was true that I couldn’t forget. But maybe, I hoped, I could make new memories.

A painted pony trotted past us down the thoroughfare, its hide blue and red, its hooves gold, a chariot clattering behind. High-Kith children in their finery bounced inside the chariot, waving streamers. The horse threw back its head, but instead of neighing, cried eerily in a human voice, “Make way for the councilmen!”