“Allöh, my dearest. You’re late,” she cooed, stroking Amaranth’s feathers before she unraveled the parchment and scribbled a response to the message within. “Tredae’Auryth.” She kissed the hawk’s beak gently. “And quickly.”

Three impatient knocks suddenly battered Luscia’s bedroom door, sending Amaranth shrieking back into the skies.

“Captaen Bailefore!” Alora spun and barked through the door. “If you persist in this endeavor to try my patience, then I will soon find some unpleasant use for your lack of it!”

Luscia heard another man clear his throat behind the dense wood.

“Ana’Mere…I’ve not come on my own behalf,” Marek answered nervously.

“Lady Haidren, I trust you’re having a lovely day,” a cheerful voice interjected. “I was wondering if I might share a portion of it?”

Luscia shot up in bed, dragging the blanket higher to cover her thin shift as Alora flew to the handle. Opening the door with poise, Alora revealed the Orynthian prince, who was carrying a thorny, flowering shrub. At Dmitri’s side stood the visibly displeased captaen, although Marek’s expression softened when he realized Luscia had awoken.

“Your Highness.” Alora’s hand braced her middle. “Meh’fyreon. I apologize, we mistook you for our determined Captaen Bailefore. Boleava, do come in.”

Marek made to follow the prince, only to have Alora swiftly shut the door in his face.

“Your protective services are sufficient from the common room, Captaen Bailefore,” she added, aware he would listen even from a distance.

“Lady Haidren, it’s so good to see you,” Dmitri said, nodding respectfully to Alora. He glanced about the room before gesturing to the chair by Luscia’s bedside. “May I?”

“Wem! Boleava,” Luscia blurted, realizing she’d spoken in her native tongue rather than his own. “Yes. Yes, please do.”

“Tadöm.” Dmitri grinned as he sat down, summoning the dimple in his right cheek with his surprising use of Boreali. “I’m learning.”

His face caught the afternoon light while he scanned her quarters. Again, Luscia noticed the improved vitality of his skin. Warm, mossy eyes bounced between the furs across the foot of her bed to the jars lining the edge of her open window. The incoming breeze disturbed his hair, freeing it from where it curled around his ears.

“I hope you find your apartments satisfactory. I held them specifically for your party, since there are so few facing northward,” he commented, pointing to the bay below.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Luscia said earnestly. “Our view of Thoarne Bay is quite captivating. I enjoy watching the drifting bazaar transform throughout the day. It’s quite eclectic.”

“Yes, I suppose there’s that.” He chuckled. “Mainly, I thought you’d appreciate the ability to look toward home whenever you find yourself missing it.”

Angling his head, the prince smiled sympathetically. His irises looked greener in the daylight against the contrast of his darker lashes. A spark of hope sprung forth that Dmitri Thoarne might indeed become the partner Boreal needed.

“That is incredibly thoughtful, Your Highness.”

“Oh! That reminds me. This is for you,” he said, clumsily handing the shrub he held to Luscia. “It’s called a Noculoma-Anastasis. They’re quite rare! You see, the buds bloom only after dark during nights with little to no moonlight. I had it uprooted from the royal gardens to keep you company while you recover from your ailment.”

Traces of dirt showed beneath the trimmed edges of his fingernails. The prince must have repotted it himself. Luscia found herself unexpectedly touched at the gift.

“It’s beautiful. I promise to keep Aksel from consuming it,” Luscia jested, setting the plant on her night table.

Alora pulled another chair around to the opposite side of Luscia’s bed and set a long, wooden box across her lap. Carved from fallen timber on the Isle of Viridis, viridi wood was prized for its deep amber striation and seldom traded with outsiders.

“Your Highness, I am deeply remorseful for my absence during Luscia’s reception,” Alora prefaced, placing the viridi box between them. “Unfortunately, that also meant I was delayed in bringing you what is rightfully yours.”

Her small hands opened the case to reveal a brilliant luxiron sword, set in a lush bed of embroidered linsilk. The sword’s core emitted the same luminosity as Luscia’s confiscated kuerre, but didn’t curve as conventional Najjani blades did. Built with an untraditional hilt, their luxsmiths had crafted the metal to resemble a dozen interlocking, golden antlers.

“The Stag Age commenced with your father, but it is our hope that under your stewardship, it will thrive,” Luscia explained her design. “This is hardly as historic as I envisioned, but I’m proud to reveal Boreal’s true offering—your Sword of Thoarne.”

Dmitri’s fingers brushed his lips in awe as he studied the blade’s intricacy. “I can’t help but feel there’s a great disparity between us,” Dmitri said in a melancholy voice, carefully holding the case open. “You’ve given me this sword when Bastiion has taken your own, though at least your mother’s dagger may remain in your care. Despite the commander’s rather…aggressive…objections, I managed to convince my father to consider it an exception to Gregor’s newest piece of legislation.”

“A kindness indeed, Your Highness,” Luscia managed to say.

“Its name?”

“Communion. The state of things so held.”

Hesitantly, his thumb ran the length of it in a reverent caress. “This is truly magnificent. Luscia, I have no words.”

He didn’t get an opportunity to form them, either, due to a loud crash from the common room. Multiple languages rang out in what sounded like a heated disagreement.

“Where is he? I demand you open that door!” a man shouted, emphasized by a compilation of what she presumed were Andwele obscenities.

Rising from the chair, Dmitri carefully latched the case and picked it up, along with his cane. “This has been a delightful visit, if cut short,” he said with a sigh, glowering at Luscia’s door. “I’ll forgive you your watchdog, if you’d be so gracious as to forgive me mine.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Alora assured him.

Meeting Luscia’s eyes once again, Dmitri added, “Truly, the sword…” He nodded to the box in his hand. “It will be cherished.”

“Just as we’d hoped,” Luscia told him with a heartfelt smile.

Reluctantly opening the door to her domed common room, the prince said farewell and quietly closed it behind him.