Kliff’s whine went unheard to Faye, who was already draping the sheet over her head as a veil.

She passed out props to the other kids who agreed to play knights and princesses. Kliff looked down at the paper flowers in his hands. He thought these sorts of stories ended with a wedding instead of starting with one, but more than that, he knew that no amount of complaints could stop Faye once she had her sights set on something.

“You’ll change, and one day you will! But not to me,” she lowered the sheet with a flourish. “I’m going to marry Alm.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, unable to keep the bitter comment from escaping him. “We all know you’ll marry Alm, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“What?”

She flung the sheet away from her face to gape at him. “Of course not! We’re going to be friends forever, okay? All of us!”

“You just said we’ll change…”

“Not like that! Nothing’s going to change. We’ll all stay friends, just the same, okay?”

He clutched the flowers tighter. He studied her eyes. “That… sounds nice.”

“Good! Now, straighten those clothes! It’s our wedding day, after all.”

“Faye…”

---

Silque’s knuckles paled white, she was clasping them so tightly together.

Her whole life, she thanked Mila for shielding her from the temptations of the mortal world. Thanks to Her, Silque had never been overcome with greed, and her temper remained a soft one. She praised the goddess for the peace to reject grudges, and the strength to withstand the desires of the body. But something stirred within her as the head priestess continued her sermon.

She went on and on. Why was she so insistent on bracing oneself against a situation that never arose? Why did she plead for purity as if it were something out of their control? Why did the other clerics nod and mutter to themselves as she spoke?

Seeing this agreement from her sisters – from those far more blessed than she – Silque wondered if it really was the Holy Mother who protected her from sin. Did that make her more pure, or less so?

She prayed for forgiveness, regardless.

---

Rinea’s engagement ring gleamed in the candlelight, brighter than any of the shimmering ice that blanketed the castle.

“We are to be wed as soon as the war ends,” she wrote.

The capital was full of businesslike agreement to the proposal. She wondered if a letter to her parents could pull her out of her strange apathy. As well as earning their enthusiasm, she also hoped to reassure her parents that this was more than a political arrangement. The way Berkut treated her, it was obvious they shared a mature, romantic love.

“He understands me well, and I him. We often fill our time with dance. Such an activity draws me immensely close to him. We are of the rhythm, he and I. It brings me all the joy and peace a woman could want to feel in a man’s arms. Every step is sensitive to my own.”

Her pen hovered over the next line. She wanted to speak more of their dancing, but surely she could provide other evidence to their match – something off of the ballroom floor.

She stared at the blank half of the page in the dim light.

---

Python flopped down beside his bedmate. He understood what all the adults said about a youth’s energy – he certainly felt like he could go on all night like this.

His partner leaned into his side, a hand trailing across his chest to pull him in.

“I love you.” Their breath came hot and chilling into his ear.

He blinked at them.