Boom! The shell exploded nearly over their heads, showering streamers of colored sparks over the greens.

“It’s spectacular,” Raisa said, turning her head to grin at Han.

“I thought this would work,” Han said, looking pleased with himself.

The missiles rippled into the air, glittering red, purple, green, silver, and gold. Great chariots charged across the sky, pulling the sun behind them. Dragons roared overhead, breathing flame, drawing lusty cheers from the crowds down below. Fireworks were mostly clan made, and some said there was magic built in.

“Oooh,” the crowd said in unison. “Aaah.”

Raisa floated on a sea of homesickness. Queen Marianna presided over solstice fireworks in Fellsmarch, the shells exploding over Hanalea and Lissa and all the other mountains. They’d go to temple by candlelight, and thank the Lady for the sun’s return.

May the sun come again, Mother, she thought, and meant it.

“What did you like best about solstice at home?” she asked, looking over at Han.

“The food,” he said, without hesitation.

“What kind of food?” Raisa asked, recalling the groaning tables in the palace.

“Enough to fill you up,” he said simply. Pillowing his head on one arm, he reached down and took her hand.

You’re a bold one, she thought, but didn’t pull away.

“Before the war got bad,” he continued, “there was always plenty of food around at solstice. The temples had extra, and some of the rich houses gave out leftovers from their feast days. Since the war, there hasn’t been plenty, but still more than usual, anyway.

“The markets had toys and candy, fried honey cakes and spun-glass stars you never saw any other time of year. My sister, Mari, loved those honey cakes and sugar suns. I could’ve snabbled a whole bakery cart, and she’d still want more. She’d get powdered sugar all over her face.”

He sighed and fell silent, lost in his own thoughts.

“I miss the snow,” Raisa said, wiping cold mist off her face with the sleeve of her cloak. “It made the city look like a fairyland.” Her family would ride through the streets in a horse-drawn sleigh, wrapped snug in furs, bells jingling.

“And the river didn’t stink as bad, once it was frozen over,” Han said.

She laughed. “You’re right.” Even in their different lives, they’d shared the stinking river.

“We’d sneak out at night and slide down Quarry Street Hill on dustbin lids until the bluejackets chased us off,” he went on. “Sometimes bluebloods came down the way in big sleighs. We’d catch a ride, standing on the runners in back until the footmen clubbed us off.”

Raisa’s breath caught. “They clubbed you?”

“Well.” He looked sideways at her. “If you were any good, they’d miss.”