Footsteps and muffled shouts crashed through the silence. Her heart quickened as she looked down to the street below. The guards had found them. They'd struggle to climb the roof, but once they had...

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You're her," he said, and she could almost see him retreating into shock. "All along. It was you." He shook his head. "Why?" She hated the brokenness of his voice. She had done this. It was all her fault.

"I was hiding," she replied. "In the one place Medea wouldn't think to look. I tricked Lysandra into hiring me by saying I needed to escape conscription." She hated the lie as it left her mouth, but Lysandra's safety was more important.

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "Not that. Why did you spend time with me? Why did you tell me to run away with you? To hold me hostage?"

"Because I'm falling in love with you," Maia said truthfully. A part of her trembled with fear now that her secret was exposed. But what she feared more than anything else was that this would end with him hating her. "I'm a fool for it, but I am. I can't help myself."

"You're lying," he hissed. "You're lying!"

"It was real for me too, Aaron. I swear it on my life and my sister's. I swear it on my parents' graves. I swear it on my city and my crown." She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

"You're a murderer," he said, a trace of anger in his voice.

"Yes," she said simply. "I am. I have killed the innocent and guilty alike. I am not sorry. What I have done I did for my people and my loved ones. I will never apologise for that."

The footsteps increased in volume. Maia flinched. They must have found the stairs inside the building. They'd arrive in moments.

"I am sorry for what I have done to you," she told Aaron. "Know that I did not want to hurt you. That I was doing the best I could. I tried to show you as much of the truth as was safe." She paused. "Evelyn was a lie. But much of her was real. Most, maybe." Their gazes locked and for a moment the world faded away.

"Don't go," he said hollowly. "I don't yet know how I feel about this, but...please don't go."

Something in her chest broke. She wanted to say yes. She wanted it so very, very much. But it had been weeks and weeks since she'd seen her sister, or Talia. And she had responsibilities—to her people and her soldiers.

It would be nice to say that she had no choice. It would be even sweeter to say that if she had, she would have chosen him and he her. But that would be a lie. The ugly, bitter truth was this: they both had others they cared for more than their newborn love, and responsibilities they could not turn their backs on.

Let us say this instead: if the price had been risking their own lives, they would have done it. If the world had been against them, they would have found a way to each other. And if their love had been given more time, even if had not been a fledgling burst of feelings with an uncertain future, then perhaps it would have come to mean more than their duties and their family. But it was not to be.

The guards burst onto the roof just as Maia was about to tell him no for a second time. The four were heavily armed. She could take them easily despite it, but a show of lightning on the roof of the city centre would ruin any chance of escape.

"Goodbye, Aaron," she said it softly, so they could not hear. "I would have liked to have said yes." Her eyes turned fierce. "I will find you. I do not care if it takes me all of eternity and costs me everything. I do not care what bars the way. I will find you again. I swear it on the names of my goddesses, on the lightning that crackles in my blood and on the wild and churning sea that carried me to you. I will find you."

And with that, she slid down the roof and was gone before the guards could so much as raise their swords against her.

———

Maia moved like a spider on the walls of the building and hit the pavement within seconds. Then she ran.

The guards were cursing at her, but none were interested in risking the descent themselves. They'd run down the staircase and follow her onto the street.

It was just then when the clock struck eleven. She was still fifteen minutes away from the meeting spot—and that was at a run. Lysandra would kill her if the guards didn't first.

Tempted to curse herself, Maia bolted, trying to lose her pursuers in the tangled mess of a city. Everything fell into an exhausted, delirious haze. She shut out all thoughts of Aaron and tried to avoid concentrating on her exhaustion or her fear. She only ran and ran and ran with the sole purpose of escape. Most of the night was lost to her afterwards.

At last, she limped onto the meeting spot, almost half an hour late due to a series of diversions, near misses and wrong turns. Lysandra was glaring at her, as was Taryn Gold.

The smuggler's hair was a deep midnight shade, so dark it seemed almost bluish. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, and her skin was flecked with pale scars that stood out sharply against her dark skin. Her clothes were fine, a black tunic and pants edged with hints of silver but clearly meant for fighting. In the end, the only thing Maia would remember about her were her rings. She had one on every finger—each made of some sort of coloured glass.

"What took you so long?" Lysandra snapped.

"I—"

"No time for explanations now," she brushed off. "Go, go, go! Follow Taryn!" A part of her wanted to say goodbye, to thank the princess in some way, but she couldn't summon the words. Not in this half-alive state of tunnel vision and instinct.

She burst after Taryn, though her legs cried out in pain as she ran. The smuggler led them through several streets, then stopped suddenly. Maia crouched down next to her and saw that the smuggler was carefully forcing a sewer grate open. Within a few seconds' work, she threw the loosened grate behind her and slid into the sewers.

"The sewers?" Maia said incredulously. "Seriously? Please, that's the sort of idiocy you read about in books. No rebel or fugitive worth their salt actually flees through the sewers. Medea isn't that stupid. She'll have them under heavy guard to prevent exactly these sorts of schemes."

"According to the princess, you're with Medea," Taryn said. Maia reined in her laugh—barely. "We're not going to run into the guards. This section of the sewers is no longer in use, and they've sealed it off so no one should be able to get in—that's why I took so long prizing the gate open. The locks are trickier than normal. Now stop wasting time and get in. Unless you're too precious about that dress of yours to get it dirty?"

"Of course not," she said sarcastically. "Fleeing through the sewers is just my favourite way to spend my Friday night." She followed anyway.

Most of the night was a blur. She did not remember the moment the sewers opened up to the sea. She did not remember boarding a ship to take her out of Crimsith. She did not not remember falling asleep, but when she woke she remembered dreaming of Aaron and waking up crying.

———

Her days at sea blurred into each other. She was trapped in her cabin for the duration. Apparently the ship was carrying spices and fabric to Asriel, and Taryn had managed to get her one of the cabins normally reserved for crew due only to an excessive amount of bribery. She was delivered meals everyday, but otherwise everyone pretended she didn't exist.

She spent most of her time with thoughts of Aaron. She replayed and analysed their final moments together countless times. It was torturous and foolish, but she still couldn't escape the memories' hold. She conceived half a dozen doomed plans to make good on her promises and find him again. Each one she discarded.

It was a relief when she switched ships, this time boarding a rebel vessel intent on escaping Medea's blockades and reaching Azul. If anything it was a change of pace. But it meant more than that. She was among her own people again. When they called upon her to fight past the armada, she finally had a purpose, though those skirmishes were over quickly and with minimal fuss.

Maia spent the rest of the time in her cabin. She did not read. She barely slept. She only stared at the walls and thought. Sometimes she cried. During the rare times she did dream, she dreamt of him. She imagined what could have been.

In short, she grieved. Because no matter what she might have promised him, she knew deep down in her heart of hearts that she would never see Aaron again.

———

It was only by the time she reached Azul that her grief started to fade away. She missed him still of course, but the sharp pain had faded to a dull ache, as these things do.

So when they sighted the shore at long last, she was happy. In the half hour it took them to dock she was restless with excitement. By the time she finally set foot on the soft sand of the shore her joy was bubbling up inside of her.

And then she saw Layla. And Talia. The two of them stood together on the shore, the tension between them still tangible but...they were still standing together. They'd probably made the effort just for her, but it still meant something.

Maia ran towards them, faster and faster until it felt like her legs must burst from sheer exhaustion and her heart might burst as well, from joy.

She reached them at last and collapsed into their arms. The three women squeezed each other tight and laughed. Their differences and their pain seemed distant. For a moment, they almost felt like a family again, whole and complete and perfect. But the moment passed, as these things do.

———

Aaron

"I'm surprised you're not angry," Lysandra told him. She had come to play a game of chess and a drink under the pretext of boredom, but he knew the real reason why she was here—tonight, and every other night since Evelyn—Maia—had gone. She was here to comfort him, to check on him, to gauge his emotions. His mother, who had heard the rumours that his 'lady-love' had abandoned him. She was less than pleased that he'd fallen for a servant, but she'd tried to be sympathetic.

Lysandra was the only one who he'd told Evelyn's true identity. As far as everyone else was concerned, either Maia or Layla were still hidden in the city somewhere, though restrictions had begun to relax as Medea slowly gave up hope of finding her—perhaps realising that by now whoever it was must have escaped somehow. He hadn't even meant to tell his sister, but when he'd forced himself to walk back to his room in the palace and found her waiting, the whole story had come out.

He hadn't questioned since then why she had known to wait for him. He supposed she must have known her servant was leaving—which meant she'd allowed her to escape during lockdown. But the sun knew he'd committed plenty of treasonous acts himself, and certainly couldn't judge.

"I am angry," he replied at last, not sounding remotely sincere—and not needing to ask her what topic she was referring to.

"No, you're not," Lysandra sighed, shaking her head. "If you were angry, you'd have told Mother what happened by now and given her as much information as you could. If you were angry, you would be trying to use what she told you about genuinely caring for her. If you were angry, you wouldn't be moping in your rooms. You'd be hunting her down. That's true anger, Aaron. At most, you're annoyed. Hurt. Betrayed.. But not angry."

"Would you rather I be doing those things?" He asked bitterly. "Would you rather I be that kind of man?"

"No," Lysandra replied carefully. "It's not in your nature. But I don't want you to be a fool about this. I know you cared for her. But she is the enemy now."

"What if she's just confused?" Aaron asked. "She's spent a good portion of her childhood with those rebels. They'll have lied to her to make her think everything they're doing is worth it. That it's for the greater good."

"She choose this, Aaron."

"I know my Evelyn," he said stubbornly. "She has a good heart."

"That's not even her name," Lysandra snapped.

"Her heart has nothing to do with her name," Aaron replied. "It cannot be hidden behind a façade. There were moments that felt real, Lysandra. I may not known her identity, but I knew her. She was not a murderer. Not out of spite at least. Nor was she a fanatic. What if she's just on the wrong side, and she doesn't know it?"

Lysandra slapped him. Actually slapped him, hard and sharp enough to hurt.

"Snap out of it, you fool!" She yelled. He stared at her, shocked. "I will not have you be an idiot about this. I will not have you throw yourself recklessly into danger for her. She lied, okay? She lied. To. You. To me. To everyone. Shame on her for fooling you once. But shame on you if you fall for it again."

With that, his sister was gone, and Aaron was left feeling more alone than ever before.

———

Lysandra

She stormed out of the room only to let the façade of anger fall away as soon as she was out of sight. Instead, her breathing came in heavy pants.

Yesterday, she had found the forgeries. Piles upon piles of documents. Machine after machine whirring. She had just popped into his room to check on him, then leaned on the wall only to find it give way.

Treason. Her brother was committing high treason. It was good that the rebels still repulsed him, but if he started to sympathise with and forgive Maia he might try to find her, even run away with her. Although he hadn't said, she knew he'd seriously considered it when she'd asked. He hadn't known who she was then, but even still...

Lysandra wouldn't mind one bit if Aaron made it safely to the rebels. But he wouldn't, and even then he'd still be at risk if Medea managed to invade their camp. Deep down, she knew her mother might kill him for the betrayal. For the first time, her older brothers' deaths haunted her, if only because they showed how little the Empress cared about blood ties.

No. She wouldn't let it happen. So long as she steered him away from that sort of thinking, she could keep him safe. It was all very well and good for her life to be on the line. But she wouldn't let Aaron take the same risks.

"Lysandra?" Her Mother's voice called. "I want to talk to you."

"Coming," Lysandra called out in response, following her voice through the corridor.

"So what is it?" Lysandra asked her mother. "More news on rebels?"

"Actually, yes." Medea smiled. "I have it on good authority that they will be going to take back Hawk Mountains. And that that pesky former valkyrie leader is going with them. I'll be setting up an ambush."

"Oh," Lysandra replied, heart sinking. "That seems like a good idea."

"I'm not telling anybody else," Medea continued matter-of-factly. "Every move I make seems to be leaked. There's a spy in our ranks. And you, daughter, are the only one I trust." Her mother would know then. If she sent out a warning, she would know that Lysandra was the spy. Even Medea would be able to connect the dots, despite her newfound love and trust for her daughter.

"Really, darling, I wish I'd brought you into my inner circle earlier. How did I not recognise your value? And to think-to think!-I thought you'd kill me first chance you got. What a fool I was. But we're making up for it now, aren't we?"

"Yes," Lysandra replied weakly. "It's an excellent idea, Mother. I should have known that Myra Isidore wouldn't beat you much longer."

"That's my Lysandra," Medea smiled, glowing with pride.

Lysandra had no choice but to say nothing, do nothing. If she sent a missive...all would be lost. Her betrayal exposed to the whole world. She was checkmated. All she could do was watch, helpless, as Rose and hundreds—maybe even thousands—with her marched straight to their doom