Dorothea dreamt that she was talking to a fish while riding it across a lake that extended to make a line of pure blue on the horizon as it united with the sky. The fish wore a patchwork cloak and hat and had gentle eyes. It spoke cryptically, telling her to forget what she thought she knew to realize what she did know. After conveying this message, it had flung her off its back and then disappeared into the depths with one last flick of silver scales, glittering with lavender and blue sheens. Dorothea had drowned right before a rough shaking of her shoulder pulled her from slumber.

Shark stood over her, eyes and teeth flashing in the dark. “Time to go, Thea,” they said, throwing the clothes she’d laid out the night before at her.

“Ah, Sharkie…” Dorothea yawned. She’d just been delighted to dream about something new for once. “Life is so odd, isn’t it? What a marvel…” Then she realized how tense and urgent Shark’s voice and movements were. “What happened?”

Shark turned their back while Dorothea stumbled through changing as quickly as she could. “An attack. Right in my house. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like there’s any other commotion in the village. But we can’t stay here, especially not with Cerid as bait for the enemy.”

“Are either of you hurt? And where is Cerid?”

“I’m fine. Cerid needs a little patching up, though. And the person that attacked us… Well, since I’m still alive, what happened to her is obvious.”

Okay, okay. Their departure was going to be more frantic than expected, it seemed, but everything was still in order. A letter to Sil explaining the situation sat on her dresser, and she knew he’d find it within a day once questions of her location cropped up. She’d packed a few essentials the night before and had one bag to carry, draped across her chest. The abridged guide was tucked into the satchel, and it slapped her hip angrily as she bounced after her friend's much longer strides.

Cerid was waiting outside, grasping one of his hands in the other. “I am fine, really. It is a scratch,” he said by way of greeting. “And good morning, Miss Dorothea.”

“Show me.” She put her own hands over his wound, his blood hot on her skin, and her magic flowed between them. The hole was sealed, seam by seam coming back together, until his hand was unmarred.

Cerid dipped his head gratefully. “I am sorry for the trouble. On both of your parts.”

Shark flashed a well-meaning but tight smile. “It’s no problem, and there’s no helping it. But a Ghurian attack on Sirpo’s lands… What could they be thinking? That’s pretty bold, not to mention low.”

“You know for a fact it was a Ghurian soldier?” Dorothea asked, lengthening her strides to keep up with them as the trio rushed towards the village’s entrance.

“What else?” Shark asked.

True, but these were implications they needed to consider carefully. If Ghurians had attacked Sirpo, it was a major transgression that couldn’t be ignored without punishment: a careless violation of a treaty between Sirpo and the other two territories that had been established at the end of the War of Blending.

The answer waited, standing between them and their destination. The entrance to Sirpo was marked by two tall posts. A woman blocked their way, wearing a graceful smile as if she were at a tea party rather than waiting with quiet menace. A pink and purple dress with an uneven hem swished around impossibly long legs wrapped in black boots, and dark hair covered her eyes. Hard to trust someone whose eyes you couldn’t see, even in the best of situations.

“Behind me, Thea,” Shark ordered softly, and she watched as they and Cerid stood shoulder to shoulder in front of her.

A wide grin split the woman’s face. “Ahahaha,” she chuckled. “Johanna Marley. Well met. So, I’ll be frank. According to the Treaty of Blending, it’s illegal for undocumented soldiers of Sacer or Ghuria to be harbored in neutral territory. That said, we sent someone in to rectify this act of treason, but, hm, that didn’t seem to go so well, did it?”

Dorothea put a hand on Shark’s arm and stepped out. “Of course,” she said as genially as possible, “we want to settle things here peacefully.” If they could get through this without further conflict, that would be the best possible outcome.

“In other words,” Shark hissed, “what do you want?”

“Thank you for being polite enough to ask! I travelled here looking for the Atlin family, I’ll have you know. I just want to have a peaceful chat. It’s common knowledge that the Atlins moved here after the War of Blending, and, during the first year of the current war, one was seen running around on the Sacerian side causing no end of trouble for us. Then poof! Nothing. That’s suspicious, wouldn’t you say? Warrants investigation.” Her grin widened as she took a step forward. “And there’s no denying what’s in front of me, is there? Little Miss Atlin.”

Dorothea opened her mouth and closed it again, knowing she’d damned herself just by showing her face. Like many families with dominant magics, the Atlins had a distinctive hereditary appearance. Fear trapped words deep in her twisting stomach. Her throat was suddenly dry, so she cleared it as quietly as she could. “What’s the significance of the Atlin family line to you?”

“Ahaha! Please don’t insult me like that.” The woman danced closer, and Dorothea put an arm out to stop Shark from moving for a preemptive attack. Cerid was casting her glances in his periphery, waiting to see how the situation turned.

Johanna Marley’s pointer finger came to rest an inch away from her eye, and Dorothea’s breath stilled. “Lavender eyes and white or gray hair. The significance of your family? Turning back time. Don’t you think we’d wonder about that at some point? Ahaha. So, be straight with me. Mostly because I’m tired and impatient. It was a long trip here, you know. Don’t get me too irritated.”

“I wouldn’t dream of treating a guest so rudely,” Dorothea said slowly. That grin, that low laugh… This person was dangerous.