she had been way younger than she remembered on the last time she attented a ball like that. it had been several months before her parents went to war again and died, and yuliya couldn’t recall if she was six or seven. but the memories were vivid, and she remembered with details the beautiful gowns and how happy her parents looked when they danced. yet, with so much time having passed, their faces started to become a blurred memory --- yuliya couldn’t recall exactly what was the shade of blue of her father’s eyes, or if her mother’s smile could reach her eyes or not. 

and that scared her. yuliya knew that she could try to reach to her uncle, if she wanted --- but after so many letters unanswered on the past, she gave up on doing that. but just on him, not on her brother. she still tried to write to him, from time to time. but the words were just a bunch of foreign symbols when she tried to do that. what she could write for him ? it was easier when she was younger, but now ? her brother was a grown man, not the small child she left at balakirev to go to the little palace. 

that was what to be a spy was --- lurking through corridors, trying to get a glimpse of rooms that a guard wasn't supposed to see. hannes was pretty good at it, and he could fool people with his leg problem. who would think that fjerda would send a spy with a limp to the core of the grishas ? as much as he was good at sneaking, hannes didn’t try to make it shamelessly, especially after the attack. people were becoming paranoid even about their shadows --- and while he was far from a big black bird, he couldn’t take many risks. what if someone thought he was a volcra ? he had seen so many strange things happening. grishas were strange. 

he had been prepared for that moment since he was ten. since his whole family and village was slaughtered sixteen years ago, and a friend of his father took him into his home and treated him as his own son. hannes was told to do that to avenge his father and make him proud, but was ansgar naess proud of the murderer his son become ? that wasn’t the life he had idealized for his firstborn son, hannes was sure of that. he was supposed to stay in fjerda, and continue the the fishing business that was owned by his family for generations. no, to kill a king wasn’t what ansgar naess desired for hannes. yet, to know that it was him --- a limper orphan --- who killed a monarchy, brought a sense of pride, maybe a little too excessive, for him. nobody would suspect that he did something. ivan was just a guard. 

yet, guilty started to eat him alive. he wasn’t feeling guilty because of what he had done to the king or for destroying a family, but for the friends he had bonded in ravka. what hannes did was going to change their lives, and he hoped it wouldn’t be for the worst. but the fjerdan spy also knew he shouldn’t hope for anything --- he didn’t know a thing about the crown prince, but he probably was as ill as him father. however, he and anastas had fulfilled what they needed to do in ravka. what would be of them, now ? would they stay in ravka or return to fjerda ? the thoughts about the future were becoming unbearable. he didn’t want to leave ravka, to leave the life he always wanted behind. 

hannes was enjoying himself, really. it had been years since he felt like that and, even though the king was on his top three most hated people, he had to thank him for throwing such a ball when hannes was in the little palace. of course, the king didn’t do that because he wanted a fjerdan spy to have fun, but hannes could dream. it would be more honourable if that was the reason, and not the fact that the king as a hedonist who didn’t care for his people. yet, as more time passed, he saw himself in the company of people he never thought he would be with --- mainly jedda and manya --- but it was pleasurable.