Terran sat on the riverbank in shadow, strumming peacefully on his lute. It was a gentle, haunting tune. It soothed the ache she felt deep in her bones—the one Arévis had put there.

  She couldn’t truly blame Arévis for the attack. Though she hinted at knowing something like this might have happened, she couldn’t have known when or where. Whatever dark secrets she held from her time with The Artificers Althea could forgive.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still pissed.

  “I didn’t notice you had come.” Terran stopped strumming.

  Althea didn’t say anything at first, a pang replacing the beauty of Terran’s music.

  “I knew you’d be here,” she murmured.

  Terran looked out at the river, refusing to meet her gaze. Perhaps he was just as pissed. Maybe he had better reason to be.

  “I thought I’d say goodbye to Arévis before she left,” he said.

  “But you forgot the going up to her cottage and knocking on the door part.”

  “I was getting there.”

  Althea moseyed around the sand, pale and cool in the shade of the tree’s large crown.

  “Look, Terran, it was spontaneous—I’d considered it before, but I could never really muster up the courage—”

  “Althea, it’s fine,” Terran dismissed, finally looking at her. His pale green eyes looked solemn, not angry. “Maybe I’m just mad that you’re leaving.” He sighed.

  “I have to go,” Althea defended, “I have to stop the rest of them from hurting you or Arévis.”

  Althea shuffled in place, toeing at the moist sand under the loose stuff.

  “This doesn’t have to be goodbye,” she said, gathering courage she didn’t feel like she had.

  Terran’s eyes lit up.

  “You—you could come with us,” she ventured.

  His gaze fell.

  “We always dreamed of adventure as kids,” Althea said, smiling and looking at the peacefully flowing river. “We always played like we’d become pirates one day.”

  “Have you told your parents?” Terran asked.

  Althea pouted at his evasion.

  “No. And I don’t plan to. As far as they know, I was killed by those Artificers last night.”

  “That’s cruel.”

  “I don’t think so. I’d rather they think I died than forsaken my family, home town, and studies to follow Arévis to find and… deal with the Artificers that ordered the attack on my best friend. And you and me. And half the River’s End tavern,” she huffed.

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  “Well, tell that to them when you return here and they’ll try to kill you themselves,” Terran said, his voice rising.

  “I will,” she snapped.

  They stewed in silence for a long moment.

  Althea plopped down onto the sand next to Terran. She leaned onto his shoulder, a gesture that had been a friendly one between them for years. Now she felt a longing that didn’t make sense, given that he was right next to her.

  “I can’t go with you,” Terran said, placing his lute carefully next to him and embracing her properly.

  Althea hugged him close, his curls tickling her face and the scent of him pleasant.

  “Yes you can,” she argued, angry tears welling up.

  “Alright, I don’t want to. I don’t have a death wish,” he said, voice slightly muffled with his face pressed to her neck. The warmth of it was distracting – but not from her anger.

  “I saved you… I could save you again if you’re hurt,” she said, her voice stilted.

  “With Nevic’s help,” he corrected, holding her tighter, his voice beginning to warble.

  “Don’t you want revenge?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re an idiot,” she blurted, pushing at him until they were apart.

  “I’m not the one leaving!” He snapped back.

  “Speaking of leaving,” Arévis’ calm voice rang out. She was dressed in a traveling cloak and boots, a pack secured to her back. “I had hoped to be gone hours before now. You two had other plans, I see.”

  “He was here for a while, he just couldn’t knock on your door—”

  “Althea didn’t actually go to say goodbye to her parents—she went to see Isold,” Terran blurted.

  She nearly slapped him, before realizing that she had tattled on him first.

  Arévis’ eyes narrowed.

  “What for?” She demanded.

  Althea pulled the stone from her own pack and rose, scowling at Terran and brushing the sand off her dress.

  She dropped the stone in Arévis’ hand.

  Arévis examined it carefully, her brow furrowing. She turned it with her long fingers, closing her eyes to focus on its properties.

  “It amplifies your ice capabilities,” Althea started.

  “I know what it is,” Arévis said, “It’s just puzzling that Isold would give this to me, since she doesn’t trust me with power.”

  Althea rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess you were wrong about her.”

  “The gods are never to be trusted,” Arévis hissed, pocketing the stone anyway.

  “I used to think you just didn’t like me much,” Terran said to Arévis, having crept inext to them both, “but now I realize that you just don’t trust anyone.”

  “Then it should be a consolation,” Arévis said.

  Althea felt the sting of her words like water up her nose.

  “You’ve been good friends since we were kids!” Althea shouted.

  “We had many good times. But the Arévis that came back from after the bandit incident has no interest in good times, it seems,” Terran said.

  Althea breathed deeply, not sure how to remedy such a terrible goodbye.

  Arévis’ face was disturbingly blank.

  “Or maybe she was always like this, and it’s one of those things that you overlook as a child because you don’t know any better,” he finished.

  “Stop it,” Althea demanded, almost in tears.

  “Perhaps good times have no interest in me,” Arévis whispered.

  Terran’s harsh demeanor melted at that. He rushed over to hug Arévis. She closed her eyes and reciprocated.

  “I’m sorry about Gabriel,” he whispered.

  “Goodbye, Terran,” she replied.

  Terran turned to Althea, frowning. He slipped a leather bracelet on her wrist and tightened the knot. He grabbed her face and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She barely had time to enjoy the bitter sweetness of it before he pulled away just as quickly, and walked back the way he had come, towards the village.