News of the attack on Azul filtered through day by day. It had been costly, yes, but it could have been worse. Lysandra was gone for long periods, sometimes overnight, trying to find a way to get her out. Every time she returned she came back with worse news.

With Lysandra away, Maia spent as much time as she could with Aaron. She knew it was reckless; the discussion about her past, even veiled as it was had been, was reckless. But she couldn't stop, nor did she want to. He had become a friend, and a dear one. And there was no guilt hanging over her anymore. Aaron was fighting against his mother's tyranny—in a small way, yes, but he was still fighting. Helping people.

He was a good man, Maia realised. The sort that she'd never have expected to find among such a family.

Just as she thought this, Lysandra strutted into the room, grinning like a cat. Maia shivered. What had the princess come up with now?

"You're leaving. Tomorrow." Lysandra announced.

"Lysandra, I'm sorry but I don't really have anywhere else to go—"

"No, silly. I'm getting you out of the city. Tomorrow night. I've spoken with Taryn—"

"Taryn Gold?" Maia said, goggling at her.

"Yes, she helped me get the soldiers to you ungrateful rebels, bless her soul, and now we're very good friends. The point is she can get people out of here. She's found a route and some bribable guards and Mother is finally relaxing some of the restrictions so now she can help you escape! There's a masquerade tomorrow night in Scarlett Square. It's an annual event and ridiculously boring—most nobles don't even bother attending, and someone like myself wouldn't be seen dead there—but Taryn's agreed to meet us there because we can all come masked. Then she can take you off my hands and you can see your useless sister again."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Maia said, biting her lip. "Can't we work through a rebel? Taryn Gold is...not exactly reliable."

"Don't be silly," Lysandra sighed. "Besides, we're running out of time. Your illusion is beginning to fray, isn't it?"

Maia swallowed. "It was only meant to last a few days, and now...it's been weeks. Has it started to flicker then?"

"Yes," Lysandra admitted. "Little things. Your eyes look purple in some lights, your hair sometimes turns white...we have to act quickly. If you don't have the illusion anymore, even I can't protect you."

"Okay," Maia said at last. "I'll be there."

"You most certainly will be there," Lysandra groused. "I'm escorting you."

She should be happy. She should be over the moon at the thought of escaping the Marble Palace and the city searching for her—not to mention seeing her sister and aunt again. She was about to free. She was about to reunite with her family, her friends. She was about to go back to the only home she had anymore.

But deep down inside her, she only felt miserable. Once she walked out of the Marble Palace, she would never see Aaron again. And if she did...

It would be as his enemy.

————————————————

When she walked up to Aaron's room, there was a lump in her throat and her heart was heavy. She missed her sister. She really did. Leaving her again after they'd so recently reunited had torn out a piece of her. But...

Aaron was her friend. She'd miss the long afternoons with him. She'd miss the opportunity to learn that these weeks had given her. Elena above, she'd even miss Lysandra's grousing.          

She'd prepared a lie about how she'd found a job somewhere else and had to move. She'd prepared a whole little speech about how he'd brightened

her time here and been a good friend. But when she walked in the door and saw his face light up when he saw her...the speech went right out of her head.

"Evelyn," he said excitedly. "I—I got something for you. Look!" He held out two tickets. "Remember how you said you used to love going to the orchestra with your sister when you could afford to? The Kazimiar Orchestra is coming and they're performing tomorrow night at seven. They're the best in Kallias and I got us tickets and they're playing one of your favourites. Anyway, you don't have to come if you don't want to but I thought given what you said you might like to and if you don't that's fine I'll find someone else, maybe Sandy." He rambled. "And I thought maybe afterwards if you wanted we could go to the masquerade. I know Lysandra says it's just for the lesser nobles and it's beneath us but she thinks everything is beneath her. I got you a mask and everything and servants aren't technically meant to come but I don't think they'll dare to tell me off because of well, everything so—"
"Aaron, that sounds amazing." Maia interrupted. Lysandra would not be happy about how close Maia was cutting it with meeting Taryn, but she didn't care. If this was her last night with Aaron...she didn't want to miss it. Not for all the world.

"Of course I'll come. Thank you for organising this. It's...it's perfect." Aaron blushed.

"I—I'll have to leave around eleven so I'll only be at the masquerade for an hour but...thank you. So much."

"It's nothing," he shrugged. "Do you want to see your mask? I've got a dress too—Lysandra helped me select it."

"I'd love to," Maia smiled.

It was only after she'd gone that she realised she still hadn't told him that she was leaving.

————————————————

Lysandra gave her hell for taking such a risk, but she didn't care. As Maia slid into her dress and scanned the bright lights of the city, she realised she didn't care one bit.

The gown was an absolute extravagance, which was not a surprise given Lysandra had chosen it. A deluge of cobalt silk poured over her body like a waterfall of fabric. Glorious yellow swirls crept up the sides and back. Shimmery silver thread danced along the edges. The short sleeves were perfect for the heat of Crimsith and although there was layer upon layer of fabric, the silk was so thin and light that it felt like nothing at all. It was the work of a master craftsman and must have cost a fortune.

And that was just the dress. An elaborate blue and gold mask covered the lower half of her face, embroidered with crystals.

In short, it was a gown fit for a queen—or the Lady she truly was—rather than the servant's guise she wore. She had no idea what the whole thing must have cost Aaron, but he brushed her away when she asked about it.

Glancing at the time—six thirty—she made to leave the elaborate set of rooms and meet up with Aaron, only to find a hand stopping her.

"Maia?" It was Lysandra. She tried to slip past, but the princess refused to budge.

"What?" She grumbled. "I know I'm taking a risk. Please just give me a break? You've said your piece already."

"I just wanted to tell you to be careful," Lysandra said. Just as she was about to protest and insist she knew what she was doing, the princess cut her
off. "I don't mean with getting out of Crimsith. I know you're more than capable without me mollycoddling you. I mean with Aaron."

"Lysandra, I think given how much time I've spent with him I can avoid slipping up for a few more hours."

"Not that either," the princess replied, swallowing. "You still haven't told him you're going, have you?"

"Not exactly," Maia said tightly. " I tried to. I really did. I just—"

"Listen to me," Lysandra said firmly. "My brother cares for you dearly. He pines every time you don't come to see him five o'clock on the dot. His face
lights up whenever he sees you. And he looked like a kicked dog when you two had your little spat." She drew in a deep breath. "Look, all I'm saying is it'll break his heart when you go. Let him down gently, okay?" Her face turned harsh, like a winter storm or a vengeful goddess. "If you hurt him more than he already doomed himself to by putting his heart in your hands, I will rip you limb from limb."

"I won't," Maia promised. She paused. "He's a good man, you know." She was tempted for a moment to tell Lysandra what Aaron had shown her. But she decided against it. While she knew that the princess would never sell him out, he had still trusted her to keep his secret. She would not betray that trust.

"I'll see you at eleven," Lysandra reminded her. "If you're late..."

"I know, I know," Maia groaned. "You'll kill me."

"Evelyn?" Aaron called out. She followed his voice into the corridor and smiled when he blinked at the sight of her.

"You look...you look beautiful."

"Not too bad yourself," she grinned. "You clean up well." Indeed. The prince's royal blue shirt and cream trousers were a stark contrast from his usual
mad scientist look: singed shirts, untamed hair and a manic look in his eyes. He himself bore a gold and green mask, presumably to complement his
hair, which was now neatly combed. The gold of it nearly glowed. She'd never noticed it before. Looking at him all dressed up and princely, she started to understand why the girls at court fell over him. It wasn't just his title.

He offered her his hand like a perfect gentlemen and they made their way through the palace and into the streets.

————————————————

The orchestra was everything Maia had dreamed it would be. She hadn't loved music nearly as much as her sister did, but you couldn't grow up in Veron without developing an ear for it and it had been so long since she'd heard anything other than the din of warfare that the sound was possibly the best thing she'd ever heard.

It was like she'd been living underwater all this time and suddenly she'd popped up for air and suddenly she could see and hear clearly. Or like everything she'd eaten for five years was tasteless or stale and she'd gotten used to it, but now she could have sugar and salt and spices. Suddenly, the world felt full and colourful, and she realised she was no longer surviving but living.

Suffice to say, it was the happiest night Maia had had in five long years. The music was only half of it.

But even as the piece met its climax and Maia was near sobbing with emotion as the last song played, she couldn't help but watch the time. With every passing hour the end drew closer. Of her time with Aaron. Of this magical night. She tried to tell herself that she would see him again, but she knew it was a lie. Theirs was an ill-fated friendship from the start. In a different world...

Maia shook her head, frustrated with herself. There were no different worlds. There was only this one, and to imagine another was the worst kind of foolishness. This was wartime, and her own quiet, small sorrow was nothing but one piece of a tapestry of tragedy.

Still, she wished. She hoped. And when a quiet tear slid down her cheeks, it was not just because of the music.

Aaron led her into the streets when the orchestra at last finished. He smiled shyly at her as they weaved their way through avenues and boulevards until they finally reached Scarlett Square.

Music lilted through the air. It was not solemn as the orchestra's pieces had been, but light and quick and clever. It danced through the air like it was alive. The revelry had well begun by the time they entered, and the square was a sea of dancers in glittering masks.

Maia checked the time. It was ten on the dot; she only had an hour left. Lysandra would expect her soon.

Aaron smiled at her again. There was something wary in it, but tinged with hope too.

"Evelyn," he asked. "Dance with me?"

She hesitated. It was bad enough that she was going to the orchestra and masquerade with the prince. To dance with him as well...if anyone found out, it would be instantly suspicious. People would begin to investigate her. And though she was leaving tonight, Lysandra wasn't. She couldn't risk exposing the princess.

"I would," she began. "But—"

"Evelyn," he said seriously. "No one will recognise us with the masks. Besides, look at this crowd." He gestured to the mass of people behind them. "No one's going to pick us out amongst this many people." She hesitated.  "Come on, Ev," he entreated. "Live a little."

She smiled, and he knew he'd won when she reached out a hand for him to take.

——————————————————————————————

Aaron

He'd had no idea how much he'd been hoping she would agree until she took his hand. He felt a fluttering in his stomach.

He'd planned this night for a week. He knew what she'd endured and he'd wanted more than anything to give her this. One perfect night. But when he felt her hand in his, infinitely precious, he realised this might just be the perfect night for him as well.

He began to lead her into a dance. She probably didn't know any of the steps, but she'd catch on soon enough. Over the many hours they'd spent discussing science, he'd learned how quickly she figured things out. Her mind was sharp and quick.

But within moments, he realised she knew the dance better than he did. She was swift and fluid, her every moments graceful and precise. Still, he could sense the wildness in her. She hated the practiced steps of the dance. She wanted to be free, to give herself into the movement.

Evelyn was like a firecracker. No—she was a storm, crackling with lightning and wild energy. There was an air of danger about her. It was what made it so hard for him to turn his gaze from her, for even a moment. It wasn't that she was beautiful. It was something deeper than that, something that lived beneath the skin.

"What are you thinking?" She smiled at him as he twirled her around and around.

"That you're the best dancer I've ever seen." He told her. "Where did you learn the steps?" Evelyn's smile tightened.

"My mother was a dancer," she explained quickly.

"A dancer mother and an alchemist father," he mused. "You must have had an interesting childhood."

"Interesting is one word for it," Evelyn replied. Her smile was strained now, and he cursed himself for being so stupid and insensitive. Her parents had died when she was thirteen, and he'd called her childhood 'interesting'.

  
"I didn't mean..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. You're right to be angry."

  
"Don't be silly," she laughed, all the light returning to her face. "I'm not going to let anything ruin tonight." He sighed in relief, and twirled her again. But as the song changed to a slower, stately waltz, she frowned with distaste.

"I hate walltzes," she groaned. Then her eyes lit up with mischief.

  
"Whatever you're planning," he said slowly. "Please tell me it won't get us killed."

  
"Don't be silly," she repeated. "Come with me." He wanted to insist she tell him what was going on, but the wild grin on her face was too alluring. He couldn't resist following along. She wouldn't tell him what she'd planned until she'd accomplished it, and he didn't want to be left behind.

  
"Hurry up!" She called out to him, laughing a little. The wind ruffled her hair like pages in a book.

  
"Where are we going?" He asked nervously, starting to wring his hands.

  
"Isn't it obvious?" She smiled. His stomach dropped as he realised what she was doing.

  
They'd entered a deserted marketplace, packed up for the night. But one of the stalls remained and as soon as Evelyn had seen it, her eyes lit up with wild excitement. She'd carefully scaled until she was balanced on the fabric covering and was now searching the walls adjacent for something to grip onto.

  
She was going to climb onto the roof.

  
"You're insane," he said, shaking his hand half in wonderment and half in terror.

  
"You just figured that out now?" She quipped with fake incredulity. "I thought you knew me." He rushed to stand next to the stall, arms reached out as though to catch her. Her position seemed more and more precarious by the moment.  

   
"Oh, are you're going to catch me?" She asked, smiling. "Just like out of storybook. How princely." She leaned to whisper in his ear: "Live a little, Aaron."

  
Just like that she was gone. Within seconds, she had scrambled up a pipe and raised herself onto a windowsill. Moments later, she was on the roof. She barely seemed to have touched the wall.

  
"What are you waiting for?" She called out. "I'm getting impatient."

  
Aaron stared at her. He was about to insist she came down and got back to the masquerade, about to protest that there was no way he could scale up that wall like she had. But her words echoed in his head: live a little, Aaron.

  
He knew it was foolish. He knew he might just slip and die. He certainly had no experience with such things. Yet there was something about her he couldn't resist. Years and years of obedience and careful experiments and controlled environ-ments had characterised his life, and he was glad of it. Being an alchemist was about patience and thoughtfulness and careful consideration. He'd never longed for anything else.

  
But there was something wild and untamed in her eyes, in her grin. He found he couldn't resist it. The thought of disappointing her felt like a leaden weight in his stomach.

  
So he began to climb. Evelyn clapped her hands in excitement like a child once he made it onto the fabric covering, and then began to lift himself up the drainpipe. He wouldn't lie. He was terrible at it, and he scraped his clothes and boots. More than once he slid, narrowly avoiding a terrible fate. It took him ten times as long as it had taken Evelyn, but he didn't care.

  
She pulled him up the final distance, and he was surprised to find her hands calloused and her grip strong. That was not a servant's hand that lifted him up. But she smiled triumphantly at him, and he forgot all doubt or suspicion.

  
"You made it!" She exclaimed.

  
"Shush," he warned her. "If anyone sees us up here—" But it was too late. Already he picked up muffled shouts from below.

  
"Get down!" Someone said sharply. "Stop in the name of the crown." It was a guardsmen. His stomach dropped. How was he meant to explain this?

  
"You're under arrest for trespassing!" Another guard added, his voice menacing and low. Evelyn rolled her eyes.

  
"Such melodramatics," she sighed.

  
"They're coming up after us!" Aaron said, eyes wide with warning. "They must be taking the stairs to get up here." His throat dried up. "Don't worry, I'll do the talking. I'm the prince, so they can't arrest me."

   
Evelyn shook her head. "They'll tell your mother, and we'll both get in trouble. They can't know who you are." She looked deep into his eyes, and he was surprised to find hers seemed a different blue than usual. They were almost...purple. He shook his head to rid himself of such foolish thoughts.

  
"Do you trust me?" She asked him. He was surprised to find her tone dead serious, all mischief evaporated.

  
"Yes," he said. He didn't even have to think about it."

  
"Then run," she grinned. And then she was gone, rushing towards the edge of the roof. He was about to shout at her no, but with one graceful leap she made it to the next rooftop.

  
"Come on," she called out to him.

  
"You'll get us both killed," he fretted.

  
"Aaron," she said, her voice still dead serious. "Take a leap." Those three words thrilled him more than he wanted to admit. He stepped back and back until he was right at the other end of the roof. Then he ran, as fast as his legs could carry him and leaped. He was surprised to find he cleared the roof with ease.

  
"Keep going," Evelyn encouraged, and he blinked when he found she was three roofs ahead of him.

  
"Race you?" He asked warily.

  
"I warn you," she smiled. "I will win."

   
He chased after her, roof after roof after roof until he forgot his fear. Some of the houses were packed so close together that he barely had to step to get from one to the other. But some had a long enough gap that he barely managed to avoid tumbling to a horrible death, even with a running start. Evelyn made each and every jump with ease and by the time the guards gave up, she'd been waiting for him at the final roof for approximately ten minutes.

  
"Why?" He demanded.

  
"Why what?" She asked innocently.

  
"Why abandon the masquearde to climb onto a roof?" He spluttered, then stopped suddenly as he saw the state of her. Her gorgeous cobalt gown was torn and muddied, her mask likely dropped somewhere during her escape. He realised with surprise that he had lost his own mask too.

  
"It is a shame about the dress," Evelyn sighed, noting where his attention had drifted.

  
"No, it's not," he said, shaking his head. "You were beautiful in it, but you weren't...you. You're not meant to be dressed up or kept in some gilded cage." He paused. "You're meant to be free and wild, Evelyn. The dress and the masquerade don't suit you at all." He gestured to the roof, to the guards still chasing after them, albeit in the wrong direction. "This does." He shook his head. "Still, why on earth did you do it?"

  
"There's too much hubbub going on down there," she explained, gesturing vaguely down to the ground below them. "Too many people, even in the square. I like the quiet up here. The sky. The stars. Fresh air in my lungs." She swallowed. "And I needed to talk to you. In private."

  
"What about?" He asked.

  
"Don't worry about it," she said quickly. He noticed her checking the time, which made him instinctively check as well. Ten thirty. A heavy silence fell over them. Evelyn took a step closer to him, then held out her hand.

  
"Dance with me?" She asked.

  
"I thought you'd never ask." He replied.

  
There was no music playing, but if anything that seemed to set them free. Evelyn adhered to no laws but gravity, no steps but the ones she made up on her own. They half-ran, half-danced from one side of the roof to another. He twirled her around and around until she felt dizzy. If anyone saw them, they gave no sing. He wouldn't have cared if the world was watching. For that moment, there was no one but him, and Evelyn, and their wild, music-less dance on the rooftops.

  
He tried but failed to commit every second of it to memory. Later he would try but fail to remember every word he'd said, every darting move they'd made across the roofs. He would find nothing but snatches. The mind is a tricky thing like that. It will not let you replay everything over and over. You have to live in the moment, and live in the moment they did.

  
They finally began to slow, muscles aching with exhaustion. Aaron took her hand as they slumped to the tiled roof, legs dangling off the edge. It felt as natural as breathing.

  
"That was the best night of my life," Evelyn said, breathing heavily. "Thank you."

  
"It's not over yet," he smiled. "What do you want to do next? We can go back to the masquerade, or find one of the night markets, or—"

  
"I need to go," she said softly, but her voice was firm.

  
"Tomorrow, then." He persisted.

  
"Aaron, I—" she sighed. "I'm not going to be here tomorrow."

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"I'm leaving," she said, and he could have sworn her eyes glistened with tears in the moonlight. "I'm leaving. Tonight. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. After you brought the tickets and you showed me the dress I just couldn't bear to. I'm sorry." She repeated.

  
"Can I...Can I come visit you, wherever you're going?" She shook her head.

  
"Why not?" He asked. He hated how broken and hopeless his voice sounded.

  
"You just can't," she said, shaking her head. "It's complicated."

"Where are you even going?" He asked. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't actually lose her. The thought was abhorrent. This night had been so perfect and now...now this.

"Far away," Evelyn replied heavily. He relaxed a little.

"If distance is the issue, then don't worry. I don't care if I have to travel to see you. I'll go anywhere." His voice was pleading now. "Just tell me, and I'll be there."

"It's not that," she replied. "If only it was. Aaron, I don't know how to explain this. Just trust me, okay?"

"Why? Why are you going?" He asked.

"I can't stay here. I care for you dearly but being here is not easy for me. Given my history, I mean." There was an awkward silence. "I have to get back to my sister. I know she misses me, and I miss her too. It's already been too long." She paused. "If it's any comfort, know that you brightened my time here. And that I would stay if I could."

"What if I gave you a reason to stay?" He asked. Evelyn only blinked at him.

Before he could second-guess himself, he leaned forward and kissed her. It lasted only a moment, but it was everything he had imagined. When she pulled away, her eyes were filled with sorrow.

"I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you," he said quickly, and found that it was true. "Please stay." In the end there was nothing else to say. He had offered up everything he had. He knew from the look on her face that it was not enough.

"We are young," she said softly. "We know nothing of love." He shook his head.

"I have courted before. I'm sure you have to. I thought myself in love a couple of times." He snorted. "I was a fool. But this is different. You're different.."

"Your mother is unlikely to be happy that you are courting a common servant." Evelyn pointed out.

   "I can forge a document that says you are the firstborn daughter of the Duke of Crimsith if I please, and make it real enough that the Duke himself cannot deny it." Aaron dismissed. "You can bring your sister into Crimsith. I know neither of you will be comfortable in Medea's capital but..." he trailed off, at loss for words. There was nothing he could do to ease that pain. Nothing he could to dull the memory or the anger. Even alchemy had its limits.

"Come with me," Evelyn said suddenly. Her eyes were alight with hope. But the brightness flickered out within moments when she turned to him. His hesitation must have shown in his face.

"My mother won't let me leave the city," Aaron reminded her. "Come to think of it, everything is on lockdown. How can you be getting out tonight?"

"I know the right people and I have the right papers," she swallowed. "What if...what if there was somewhere you didn't have to worry about your mother finding you? Somewhere safe."

"You underestimate my mother," Aaron said wryly.

"No," she replied, voice dead serious. "You underestimate me." There was a long silence.

"Where is it?" He asked again. She hesitated.

"I can't tell you," she said carefully. "But you won't be able to return to the palace."

"For how long?"

"Forever." She sighed, shaking her head. "I should never have asked. I can't expect this."

"Where could you possibly be going?" He asked, lost for words. "You're not a rebel, are you?" It was only half a joke.

"No," she said quickly. "Of course not." She drew in a deep breath. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he said. "With my life."

"Then come," she implored him. "Come with me." There was no wildness left in her. Only sorrow and hope and love, swirled together in her eyes.

He almost said yes. Almost. Then he thought of his mother, of his few friends, of his work, his passion, the city that had nurtured him. he thought of Lysandra, who would wait for him for weeks and never find him.

   "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I can't. I'm sorry. It doesn't mean that I love you any less, I swear."

  "I know," she replied, smiling sadly. Then she surged forward and kissed him one last time. A final goodbye.

The moment seemed to last an eternity, suspended in time like a flower frozen in ice. When it was over, it was still not enough.

The clock rang eleven and she pulled away. It was only as the moonlight splashed onto her face that he realised something had changed.

It hadn't been a trick of the light earlier. Her eyes were purple. A light, dancing shade of lilac. And her hair was paler than before, as white as the moon above them. Her skin had lightened, and there was a golden tint to it that had not been there before. Her eyes were slanted.

   And her ears were pointed.

   "Maia or Layla?" He asked softly.

   "Maia," she replied. "I'm sorry."