Aleric was mid-cry when she spoke.
Not a full cry.
He had been very clear about that internally.
A strategic emotional response to a genuinely difficult situation that anyone reasonable would find difficult and which did not reflect negatively on his overall composure or character.
He was mid that when her voice arrived.
"You're scared of this small problem."
Quiet.
Flat.
From nowhere.
From beside him.
Aleric stopped.
Not gradually.
All at once.
The way you stop when something arrives that your body decides takes priority over everything else currently happening.
He looked up.
Blaze sat in a gold chair that had not been in the cell a moment ago and was now fully present in the cell with the specific quality of something that had always been there and the cell had simply not been informed of this until now.
She was looking at her nails.
Maze stood behind her.
Neither of them casting shadows.
Neither of them visible to anything except the two people currently in this cell.
Just — there.
Aleric stared at her.
At the veil.
At the red flower.
At the gold chair.
At the nails.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand very quickly.
Like that undid anything.
Blaze did not look up.
"How are you going to be useful later," she said.
Still flat.
Still unhurried.
The tone of someone making an observation about the weather that happened to also be a pointed remark about his current emotional state.
"Being with me," she continued, "means many adventures."
She turned one hand over.
Examined the other side.
Aleric looked at her.
At the chair.
At Maze.
At the cell around them.
At Lain against the wall who had the expression of someone watching something impossible happen for the second time in twenty minutes and was managing his reaction to it with everything he had.
Aleric wiped his face one more time.
Straightened slightly.
Picked up his notebook from his lap.
Held it.
She came, he thought.
Not with surprise.
Not with the specific relief of someone who had doubted.
Just —
She came.
Of course she came.
She always comes.
He looked at the corridor beyond the bars.
At the empty space where the constables had been.
At the cell that was a cell and also somehow contained a gold chair and the most powerful person in existence examining her nails.
He opened his notebook.
Wrote very small at the bottom of the current page:
She came.
Closed it.
Aleric straightened.
Fully this time.
With the specific dignity of someone who had decided the last several minutes were behind them now and intended to keep them there.
He smoothed his shirt.
Looked at his notebook.
At the bars.
At Blaze in her gold chair.
At his notebook again.
"I wasn't scared," he said.
Blaze said nothing.
"I was strategically emotional."
Still nothing.
"There's a difference."
She turned her hand over.
Examined the other side.
Aleric watched her examine her nails for a moment.
Then —
"If that's small," he said.
She didn't look up.
"What does big look like."
A pause.
Not long.
The specific pause of someone deciding how much to give rather than whether to give anything.
Blaze looked at her nails.
"The last time something qualified as big," she said, "three kingdoms stopped existing."
Silence.
Aleric looked at her.
At the veil.
At the red flower.
At the icy blue eyes still aimed at her nails with the unbothered quality of someone recalling something mildly inconvenient that had happened once.
He opened his notebook.
Wrote it down.
Exactly as she said it.
Three kingdoms stopped existing.
He looked at it on the page.
Closed the notebook.
Said nothing.
Filed it in the specific place where things went that he wasn't going to think about fully until later when he had more capacity for it.
Which was not now.
Now he was going to sit in this cell and be fine.
He was fine.
He was completely fine.
Three kingdoms, he thought.
Stopped existing.
He looked at the bars.
At the cell.
At the stone walls.
This is fine, he thought.
This is a very small problem.
Three kingdoms.
Fine.
Lain had heard all of it.
He had been against the wall with his arms folded and his expression composed and his collar adjusted and his eyes aimed at nothing specific in the middle distance since Blaze appeared.
He had maintained this position through her arrival.
Through the gold chair materializing.
Through Maze appearing behind her.
Through Aleric's very quick face-wiping that definitely undid everything.
Through the strategically emotional comment.
Through the three kingdoms.
He was still maintaining it.
She appeared, he thought.
In the cell.
In a gold chair.
While I was sitting against the wall.
I was sitting against the wall and then she was in a gold chair and Maze was behind her and neither of them were there before and now they are.
He looked at Blaze.
At the nails.
At the gold chair.
At Maze standing behind her with the composed stillness of someone who was very carefully not looking at him looking at master.
She was gone, he thought. And now she's here. In a cell. In a chair. Looking at her nails.
There is a reason, he thought.
There is always a reason.
I am going to keep believing that until she gives me a different option.
He adjusted his collar.
Looked at the wall.
Looked at Blaze.
She still hadn't acknowledged him.
Not once since she appeared.
Not a glance.
Not a word.
Not even the dismissive peripheral awareness she extended to everything in her vicinity as a default.
Just — the chair. The nails. The cell that she occupied the way she occupied every space, like it had been built for her specifically and was now fulfilling its purpose.
Master, he thought.
He said nothing.
Adjusted his collar.
Filed everything.
Waited.
Footsteps.
Corridor.
Getting closer.
Aleric looked up from his notebook.
Lain straightened against the wall.
Maze's eyes moved to the corridor.
Blaze didn't look up from her nails.
The footsteps stopped outside the cell.
The head constable.
Two others behind him.
He looked at Lain.
At Aleric.
At the cell.
At the space where a gold chair containing the most powerful person in existence was sitting approximately two feet from where he was standing.
He saw nothing unusual.
He looked at his papers.
"You have been formally charged," he said. "Murder of the artist found on the premises of the third art house. Obstruction of official investigation." He looked up. "Sentence. Ten years. Case closed."
He looked at them both.
Waiting for a response.
Aleric looked at the head constable.
At blaze in her gold chair two feet from the head constable.
At the head constable who could not see sis in her gold chair two feet from him.
At blaze.
At the head constable.
He cannot see her, he thought.
She is right there.
Two feet from him.
In a gold chair.
And he cannot see her.
He looked at the head constable's face.
At the complete absence of any awareness that something extraordinary was sitting two feet to his left.
Two feet, Aleric thought.
Two feet.
He looked at his notebook.
This, he thought, is going in the diary.
All of it.
Every single part of it.
Ten years, Lain thought.
He let that sit.
Ten years.
He looked at the bars.
At the lock.
At the corridor.
If my father finds out, he thought.
Not with dramatic fear.
With the specific dread of someone who could picture the exact conversation very clearly and found the picture deeply unpleasant.
If the Grand Duke finds out that his son — his only son — the son he trained and educated and sent into the world with considerable investment of time and resources — was arrested for murder in an art house in a village he had no business being in—
He stopped that thought.
Started it again.
If he finds out I was sentenced to ten years—
He stopped again.
He will not find out, he thought firmly. Master will not allow ten years. It wasn't time yet. Time is coming. This will be resolved before anyone finds out anything.
A pause.
Obviously.
Another pause.
If he finds out I will never hear the end of it.
Another.
Ever.
For the rest of my life.
He will bring it up at every possible opportunity.
At dinners.
At formal occasions.
Probably at my funeral.
That time you got sentenced to ten years for murder in an art house, Lain.
Remember that.
He adjusted his collar.
Looked at the wall.
Master will not allow ten years, he thought again.
Obviously.
Time is coming.
Obviously.
Blaze looked at the constables.
Not at their faces.
At their wrists.
The right one specifically.
The head constable's sleeve had shifted slightly when he turned the paper over. Just enough. A mark visible for one second beneath the fabric before the sleeve fell back.
She had seen it.
Small.
Deliberate.
The specific quality of something that had been put there rather than happened there.
She looked at the second constable's wrist.
Same mark.
Same position.
Same deliberate quality.
The third.
Same.
Interesting, she thought.
Not the mild entertainment interesting she applied to the cell and the sentence and the head constable standing two feet from her without knowing it.
Something colder than that.
Something with direction.
She looked at her nails.
Filed it.
Noted. she thought.
Very noted.
The constables left.
Silence settled.
Aleric looked at the corridor.
At Blaze.
At the corridor.
"Are you going to get us out," he said.
Blaze looked at her nails.
Aleric looked at her.
"Is it eventually soon?"
Blaze said nothing.
"Because ten years is—"
Blaze snapped her fingers.
One motion.
Small.
Casual.
The specific casualness of someone doing something that required no effort and therefore received none.
Aleric looked at his hands.
At his hands.
At his hands again.
What, he thought.
He looked at Lain.
Lain looked at his own hands.
At Aleric.
At his hands.
What, Lain thought.
Down the corridor footsteps arrived.
The fourth constable.
Checking.
He stopped outside the cell.
Looked through the bars.
At the empty cell.
At the floor.
At the walls.
At the bars themselves as if perhaps the bars had done something.
At the empty cell again.
He stood very still for a moment.
Then turned and ran.
His footsteps going fast.
Getting faster.
Then voices. Several of them. Coming closer.
Then stopping outside the cell.
Several constables now.
Looking at the same empty cell.
At the same floor.
At the same walls.
"They were here," one of them said.
"I know they were here."
"I checked an hour ago."
"I know."
"They were here."
"I know they were here."
"Where did they—"
"I don't know."
Silence.
Someone said something quietly that nobody acknowledged out loud.
Then footsteps.
Going away.
Fast.
All of them.
Aleric looked at his hands.
At the space where the constables had been.
At his hands again.
"What happened," he said.
"You're invisible," Maze said.
"To everyone outside this group," Lain said. With the specific tone of someone who had processed this faster than Aleric and was marginally proud of that.
Aleric looked at his hands.
"I'm invisible."
"Yes."
He looked at Lain.
At Maze.
At Blaze examining her nails.
"I'm invisible," he said again.
"Yes," Maze said. "Come out of the cell."
Aleric looked at the door.
At the lock.
At the bars.
"It's locked," he said.
"Yes," Maze said.
"The door is locked."
"Yes."
"So how do I—"
"Come out of the cell," Maze said.
Aleric looked at the door.
At the bars.
At the lock.
He reached out.
Touched the bar.
His hand went through it.
He stared at his hand on the other side of the bar.
Pulled it back.
Looked at it.
Put it through again.
Pulled it back.
Oh, he thought.
He looked at Blaze.
She was examining her nails.
He looked at the door.
Stepped forward.
Went through it.
Stood in the corridor.
Looked back at the cell.
At Lain still inside.
At the bars between them.
At his own hands on the outside.
"Oh," he said out loud this time.
He stepped back through.
Into the cell.
Stepped forward.
Through the door.
Into the corridor again.
"Oh," he said again.
He did it a third time.
Just to confirm.
Back through.
Forward through.
Corridor.
This, he thought, is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
He looked at Lain.
"You have to try this," he said.
Lain looked at the door.
At the bars.
At Aleric standing in the corridor having just walked through a locked door three times for no reason except that he could.
He walked through the door.
Once.
Stood in the corridor.
Looked at the cell behind him.
At the locked door he had just passed through.
Interesting, he thought.
Not with Aleric's energy.
With the composed interest of someone who had filed this under useful and intended to think about its implications later.
He straightened his collar.
Looked at Maze.
"Now what," he said.
Aleric was already walking back through the door into the cell.
Then back out again.
"I just want to do it one more time," he said.
"You've done it four times," Lain said.
"Five now," Aleric said, coming back through.
"Come," Maze said.
Aleric came through the door one final time.
Looked back at the cell.
At the locked door.
At the empty space where they had been sitting receiving a ten year sentence twenty minutes ago.
He opened his notebook.
Wrote one line standing in the corridor:
I can walk through doors.
He looked at it.
Added:
This is the best day of my life.
Closed the notebook.
Looked at Blaze who had stepped through the cell door without ceremony and was already walking down the corridor with the specific quality of someone who had allocated sufficient time to this and was moving on.
He followed.
The corridor was empty.
They walked through it invisible and unhurried with the specific quality of people who had somewhere to be and were no longer detained by the people who had detained them.
Blaze walked ahead.
She was not looking at the constables they passed.
She was looking at the corridor ahead.
But she saw them.
Every wrist.
The constable sitting at the desk who had been asleep before and was now awake and writing something. Right wrist. Mark. Same position. Same deliberate quality.
The one standing near the far wall with a cup in his hand. Right wrist. Mark. Same.
The fourth one — the ghost one — still near the entrance with the specific expression of someone who had decided today had been too much and was waiting for it to be over. Right wrist as he shifted his grip on the door frame. Mark.
Same.
All of them.
Five, she thought.
Not with alarm.
With the focused cold interest of someone who had found a pattern and was confirming its edges.
Five marked constables in one town office.
In one village.
In one case that was closed too quickly by someone who was given a result rather than finding one.
She kept walking.
Said nothing.
Filed everything.
Aleric was not thinking about any of this.
Aleric was thinking about the door.
Specifically about the fact that he could walk through it.
He had already walked through four doors.
He was about to walk through the fifth.
He went through the front door of the town office with the specific focused joy of someone who had discovered something wonderful and intended to use it every available opportunity.
He stood outside.
Looked back at the door.
Went back through.
Into the town office.
Back out.
Corridor to outside in one step.
"I could do this forever," he said.
"Don't," Lain said, coming through behind him with one smooth step and the composed expression of someone who had decided to do this exactly once and had done it.
"Just one more—"
"We're outside," Maze said.
Aleric looked at the street.
At the village around them.
At the market continuing its afternoon with the complete indifference of a market that had processed the day's events and moved on.
He looked at his hands.
Visible again.
He flexed them once.
Looked at the town office door.
Decided he had done it enough times.
For now.
Visibility had returned quietly.
No announcement.
No transition.
Simply — invisible and then not.
Nobody in the street noticed four people appear outside the town office because nobody had been watching the town office door at that particular moment and the village had already decided it had processed enough strangeness for one day.
They stood on the street.
The four of them.
Together.
Aleric looked at Blaze.
At Maze.
At Lain.
At the street around them.
At freedom which looked exactly like a normal village afternoon and was therefore the best thing he had seen all day.
Maze turned.
She looked at Aleric first.
Then at Lain.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Quiet.
Even.
The tone of someone who meant it completely and was not going to dress it up.
"For leaving you. Both of you." She looked at Aleric specifically. "You were scared. I could see it through the mirror. I wanted to come back sooner."
Aleric looked at her.
"It's fine," he said.
Immediately.
Completely.
The way he said most things — without reservation and without the specific performance of forgiving that people sometimes did when they wanted the other person to know they were being gracious about it.
Just — fine. Actually fine. Already filed.
"I didn't have a choice," Maze said. "Master commanded."
"I know," Aleric said.
He looked at Blaze.
Blaze was looking at the market.
At nothing specific.
At everything.
"I know," Aleric said again. Smaller. Not to Maze anymore. Just — out loud. To himself. The way he said things when saying them helped.
Lain looked at Maze.
"It's fine," he said.
Flat.
Even.
Composed.
The specific composure of someone who had decided on a response and was delivering it.
Maze looked at him.
Nodded once.
Looked away.
She technically, Lain thought, briefly abandoned us.
He let that sit.
Technically.
Briefly.
She had a reason.
Master commanded.
There is always a reason.
Master always has a reason.
A pause.
We were briefly abandoned.
Technically.
He adjusted his collar.
Filed it.
Under the most appropriate category available.
Which was the title of the chapter they were currently living in.
He let it go.
Aleric fell into step beside Blaze.
She was already walking.
He matched her pace.
Looked up at her profile.
At the veil.
At the red flower catching the afternoon light.
At the icy blue eyes aimed at the market ahead.
Her hand moved sideways.
Found his.
Same grip as always.
Light. Precise. The minimum surface area required.
Aleric looked down at their joined hands.
Looked up at the market ahead.
She came back, he thought.
Simple.
Clean.
Of course she came back.
He thought about what to have for dinner.
He thought the broth from last night had been good but tonight he wanted something different.
Something with more structure. Something that required more from the ingredients.
He thought about this seriously for approximately four steps.
He was happy.
Uncomplicated happy.
The specific kind that didn't need examining.
Lain watched from two steps behind.
At the joined hands.
She took his hand, he thought.
After the cell.
After all of it.
Just—
He adjusted his collar.
Maze walked beside Lain.
She looked at Blaze's hand around Aleric's.
Looked away.
Said nothing.
Blaze walked.
Her eyes moved sideways once.
At Aleric thinking about dinner with the unbothered happiness of someone who had been in a cell twenty minutes ago and had already moved on.
I need to train him, she thought.
Soon.
At the rate this energy moves he will simply explode and die.
A pause.
Waste of exceptional talent.
She drew the energy.
Kept walking.
Soon, she thought.
This is entirely practical.
The red flower caught the light.
Held it.
Let it go.