It was a gift to finally be at ease with them. So much of Ranka’s time in Isodal had been a swirl of confusion, grief, and pain. She’d arrived ready to hate the Sunra twins, to see them ended—but somewhere along the way, they’d become more. They’d become worth it.

Tomorrow, she would do everything she could to ensure the Skra saw that too.

Even now a part of her wondered if she should tell them. But telling them her plan to stop the coup meant telling them that she’d come here to start one. Ongrum would see reason. She’d choose the strategic route. She always did.

They had a brief moment of peace, and Ranka was going to revel in it.

“All right,” Percy said. “It’s almost time.”

Aramis and Galen sat up and nestled in on either side of Ranka, cross-legged, their knees touching hers, heads bowed over the tiny, scratched watch glinting in Percy’s palm. The second hand wound its way around the clockface. All Ranka could hear was the faint ticking and the murmur of the sea.

The minute hand clicked forward to twelve. In the distance, deep in the city, the midnight bells began to ring, marking the beginning of a new day.

And just like that, summer had ended, and their status as children with it.

Yet nothing about them was changed. They were still the same round-cheeked Sunra twins, still orphans, so terribly young despite all they’d endured, and what they might yet have to.

“Happy birthday,” Percy whispered.

The bells kept ringing. When the sun rose, banners would unfurl in the city, celebrating the coming-of-age of a new king. Back home, the Skra typically marked the first day of fall by raking the summer fields, pruning the late crops, and preparing hunting parties to stalk the herds that’d begin grazing with an urgency in preparation for a lean winter. Fall was merely a break in the heat to Seaswept, but to the north it was a warning of the snows to come, of long days and longer nights.

Aramis hummed low in her throat. “Percy, I just realized I don’t know when your birthday is.”

“I defy the boundaries of time,” said Percy.

She threw a pastry at his head.

“Tenth day of summer,” he amended. “You know, you are the most ill-mannered princess I have ever met.”

“It’s my birthday,” Aramis sniffed. “I can do whatever I want.”

They’d brought no knives with them, so the twins ate their cakes with their fingers instead. After a moment’s hesitation, Ranka followed suit. She carefully set the pine cone aside and bit deep, relishing the taste of vanilla, black currant, and strawberry. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away, but when she looked up, the twins’ eyes were watery too.

“I wish Foldrey were here,” Galen whispered.