M'yu leaned against the plush seats, mind abuzz. Aevryn held his right hand close to his chest and input the coordinates to the house with his left. Breathing harsh, the man rested his head on the seatback. The hover thrummed as it moved.

Their winter-wear lay in a bundle in M'yu's lap. Aevryn's cloak was ridiculously soft. Ridiculously expensive. His thumb rubbed back and forth over the fur before he forced himself to reach across and dump it on the seat next to Aevryn. "Are Capitalfolk dinners always like that?"

"Like what?" Aevryn clipped, eyes closed.

"Like that. Like a pack of wild dogs chasing down cats and scraps."

"I tried to warn you."

"But it wasn't me they were after, not really. What do they got against you, anyway?"

He sighed, that long, deep breath you give when you've been out in the cold all day and there isn't any sign of shelter yet. "I stand against everything they stand for." M'yu's brow furrowed, and Aevryn opened one eye to look at him. "And what happened to your Rightspeak?"

"My what?"

"Your Capital accent. The lilt, the vocabulary. You pulled it up well enough for dinner; I expect to hear it on you from now on." The watching eye closed. "The Houses will too."

"We're not in a House."

"You need practice," he muttered, breathing still uneven.

M'yu bit his lip. "We could make a sling for that, you know."

"It will be fine. It just needs rest."

M'yu pressed his lips together, damming up the flow of questions he still had. He didn't like feeling sorry for the Cap. The man was using him one way or another, he knew. They might be in the same House now, but they were not on the same side. Aevryn worked for the government; M'yu worked to bring it down. And if Aevryn ever found out, he'd be after M'yu even more than those wild dogs in Gloam Hall had been after Aevryn.

Still, he didn't see any sense in antagonizing a man in pain.

The hover slowed to a stop. Aevryn sighed, straightened, and hit the command to open the door. "Stay here."

"Wait—you meant it about leaving tonight?"

"Didn't I tell you I don't lie?"

"But what about Lania? The girl, in the cell."

Aevryn winced and looked away.

"I did a good job, Aevryn. You can't tell me I didn't."

"You did." Aevryn nodded, eyes on the snow-covered world outside. "A good job indeed."

"You said—"

"I said that we would discuss it after dinner. I didn't want it fracturing your focus. It was too important to risk... to risk anything."

M'yu studied the side of Aevryn's face, a hardset profile that refused to meet his eyes. M'yu's blood chilled. "She's not in the cells anymore, is she?"

Aevryn's head shook slowly, moonlight frosting over his icy hair and cool skin. "She died before I ever managed to get you released. Head trauma." He paused, eyes flicking to M'yu and then back away. "I truly am sorry." Still cradling his arm, Aevryn rose from the car and walked toward the house.

M'yu gripped the seat, breaths shallow. Then he tore out of the hover, snowy wind whipping at his hair and striking his face. "No, no. Hold on a second."

"I told you to stay in the hover," Aevryn called over his shoulder. Taking the stairs, he nodded at a guard, and the soldier opened the door for him.

M'yu chased after him, but the guard grabbed his shoulders.

"Aevryn!" M'yu called at the man's back.

The guard closed the door with his foot. "I think your master said the hover, not the house, kid."

M'yu shook free and ran off into the storm. The snow was thicker than last night and icier too. It stung his skin and turned lights to hazy halos in the distance. Lania, dead. He tipped his head back and let the pellets of ice beat against his face. Not just gone, not just sold, but dead. Warm tears rolled down his face, but in the night and the storm, he was the only one that knew. Maybe he really was the traitor that Dahnko thought.

M'yu's lip curled. He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand and took off again, circling around the house. His back-door window was still unguarded, and he heaved against it, fighting the already rebuilding ice. The ice cracked, and the window came loose. He climbed inside.

The building was disconcertingly bright and warm. M'yu blinked against the light and listened for Aevryn's clipped steps. Hearing nothing, he hurried into his own room. Lania had spent her life for this chance; M'yu would rather be hanged than not give it his all.

He dug through the side table for his tools. Into his pockets went the lockpicks and knife. His hand hovered over the bundle of witchcandy. He bit his lip.

Upstairs, a door clicked shut. M'yu snatched up the candy and stuffed it into his other pocket. Just because he had it didn't mean he had to use it.

He fled the room, trying to outpace Aevryn's sharp footfalls. Diving through the hall window, he yanked it shut behind him and stumbled through the snowy yard back to the hover. As he threw himself onto the seats, he did his best to catch his breath.

Aevryn appeared as a silhouette in the snow, a small suitcase in his good hand. M'yu studied the heater vents. The cabin rustled as the Cap stepped inside. The floor thunked as the briefcase hit it. The closing doors hissed. Soft, digital dings came from the console, and the hover began to move again.

A lid popped open, and M'yu's eyes flicked up. Aevryn squeezed white cream from a tube and massaged his right hand with it. His face twitched, teeth grit.

M'yu kicked off his shiny, snow-wet shoes and pulled his feet into the seat. "How'd it happen?"

"How did," Aevryn corrected.

M'yu shook his head, looking away. "You gotta be kidding me."

"I do not 'have to be' doing anything, other than expecting you to listen when I—" Aevryn hissed, eyes squeezed shut, as he worked on his hand. He drew a shaky breath, then finished evenly, "When I give you instructions."

"But not when you make me promises, right?"

Aevryn's eyes cut to his. "It is not my fault what happened. And it has been a difficult night for both of us, so I will forgive that statement and its tone."

M'yu scoffed.

Aevryn's brows rose, and he leaned forward, gaze dark. "There is something you don't seem to have yet comprehended, and you best manage to do so quickly. You think I have been hard on you; I have not. There are vultures in the Capital, waiting, who want nothing more than for you to stumble so they can tear the flesh off your bones and bask in the glory. You cannot be 'good enough,' M'yu. You cannot even be perfect. You must learn to be so far beyond perfect that they cannot even think of anything to make up about you. The truth is only in your favor in so much as you can prove it. Goodness forbid you ever step outside the lines, because then you have nothing to protect you but lies. And I promise you this." Aevryn's voice lowered, a pitch deeper than the grave. "All lies unravel."

He settled back, but M'yu leaned forward. "And what about when they find out I'm not a hero and that you picked me up from the jail? That lie's fine?"

"Boy, they already know I picked you up from jail. The only reason they threw you in there was because you didn't have a card. They couldn't identify you, so they assumed you started the fire. Since I was able to testify that you ran into the fire, I cleared your name. There is no lie there."

"Except the reason you saw me."

"Would you like for me to return you to the jail?"

"I'd like you to be straight with me and cut the self-righteous rot!"

Aevryn's face tightened. He swallowed, and his lips came apart with a soft pop. "I think you are tired. It's been a long day, and it will be a long ride. There are blankets in one of the seat drawers. Get some sleep."

"I'm not—"

Aevryn held up a hand. "This is not up for discussion! None of this is up for discussion, child. When I say do, you say yes. When I say stay, you stay; when I say don't, you don't even think about it. Is. That. Clear?"

They stared each other down. M'yu tore his gaze away and threw open one of the drawers, then another until he found the blankets Aevryn had mentioned. Yanking one out, he lay down on the curved bench and used his coat for a pillow. He had no intention of sleeping with the Cap awake across from him, but he closed his eyes for show.

The hover hummed and swayed like his mother rocking him as a toddler. When he opened his eyes again, it was to Aevryn shaking him gently awake. M'yu startled, but Aevryn just stepped back. "I think you'll want to see this, boy."

The hover walls had gone transparent, and moonlight streamed in from above. M'yu sat up, rubbing his eyes. Out the left was the vertical cliff face; the hover's magnets rotated and used the mountain's strong metal deposits to stick to its side.

Out the right side stretched the whole of the Gloam: the dark shanties, lit only by the reflection of snow on their rooftops; the mushroom caves, where they grew everything from staple foods to the witchcandy the Magnate had served; the yellow glow of Hall Row and the streets of the rich. It looked like a child's drawing, details too small and squished to make out clearly.

And then the hover topped the ridge. The cliff wall dropped away, replaced by a street of blinding lights. Everything was lit; not just the streetlights and the windows, but whole faces of buildings and giant signs. The roads were clean—not only shoveled of the ever-present snow, but clean of trash and dirt and forgotten things. The cement downright sparkled, and even at this late hour, people moved among the sidewalks, chatting, carrying shopping bags, kissing under lamp posts. Aevryn tapped M'yu's shoulder and pointed.

M'yu's hands pressed against the glass. On a plateau far above these streets rose a gleaming structure unlike anything M'yu had ever seen. It was all metal and glass, at least ten times larger than Gloam Hall. It looked more like a bird than a building; its wings stretched wide and proud, and above its metal beak shone a giant window that watched over the city.

"That is the Prav'sudja, where the Tsaright lives." Aevryn pointed to another huge building mid-way down the slope, dark stone cut in sharp angles that reached for the sky. "And that is Scrollschool. It is the eminent education facility in the entire city, where noble children are trained for the Washfall Trial. Thanks to the Magnate, you will be attending in three short days."

M'yu just gaped, drinking everything in.

Aevryn tapped his finger against the seat. "Why did you say Washfall would be a few months?"

M'yu's brow crinkled. "To get them to quit bothering you."

"Yes, I know that, boy. I mean—" Aevryn sighed. Another hover whizzed by, and M'yu turned, climbing to his knees to watch it pass. "Why three months?"

The other hover disappeared around a corner, and M'yu found himself facing Aevryn. He wiped the stupid smile from his face and sat back down like an adult, arms crossed. "It's just an old wives tale. The birds at dinner reminded me."

"Go on."

M'yu shrugged. "They say when the sparrows start nesting, it's 'cause they smell the rain coming. Not that I've seen any sparrow nests or nothing, but I haven't seen much of sparrows lately neither, and I figured if the Magnate was serving them, must be 'cause they're expensive. Hard to find." He shrugged again, looking away. "It's just an old wives tale."

Aevryn sighed, leaning back. This was the first time he'd sat on the same side of the hover as M'yu. M'yu thought about moving; it was easier to remember they were enemies when the man was seated across from him. As it was, with the tics of pain and bruises spotting his face, he just looked like one of the mushroom farmers from his old neighborhood, worn-out from a long day at work. "We don't have long, boy."

M'yu craned his neck, trying to find their stopping point. "Which house is yours?" Aevryn just shook his head. M'yu frowned, studying the man's face, and realized that hadn't been what he'd meant at all. "It's just a superstition, Aevryn. Don't mean nothing."

Aevryn quirked a brow at him, and M'yu rolled his eyes, correcting himself. "It doesn't mean anything. Or, if you'd prefer"—M'yu lilted his voice as hard as he could and pitched it through his nose—"The matter means naught, sir. A silly trifle not to be worried over."

A low chuckle rumbled from Aevryn's shaking head. "You are trouble, child."

"Says the man who picked me up from jail."

Aevryn tapped his thumb against his lips, still shaking his head. He looked for a moment like he might say something else, but when his hand dropped, his mouth stayed closed.

M'yu fiddled with the button on his new shirt. "Why did you pick me up?"

"Why do you think?"

"Why do you never answer a question straight?"

Aevryn's sigh sounded like an old man's. "Because I can't trust you yet. And this is too important to fail." He rose, moving back to the other side of the hover and clicking something on the console. The windows darkened. "Go back to sleep. It'll be a few hours yet, and we have long days ahead of us."

M'yu didn't argue this time, but despite the warm blanket and the lull of the hover's hum, he didn't sleep either.