"What do you mean, you don't know where he is?!" Cora asked, panic flowing through her. Thalia always knew everything. If she didn't, it meant that something was very, very wrong.

"I don't know what's happening." Cora didn't think she was imagining the panic in Thalia's voice. She opened the front door and let her bat out for a second time. "Try again," she instructed. "This time, you have to find him."

The bat fluttered away, leaving them to stare after it in the open frame of the door.

"What's going on?" Cora turned; Iris was standing at the bottom of the staircase, huddled under a blanket. She hadn't even heard her come down.

"Everything's fine," Thalia told her. "You should go back to sleep."

Iris tilted her head, sensing that something was happening, but decided not to press the matter. She went up the stairs again, leaving Cora and Thalia to stand alone in the living room—the spheres above them dark.

"What could've—"

"I don't know," Thalia interrupted her, as if she couldn't bear to hear the words spoken. "I just don't know."

Cora sat on the couch, but not long after she stood again and started pacing the room back and forth. Thalia didn't leave her spot by the window.

An hour passed, and the bat came back with no news. The air outside grew colder, the windows fogged, and Thalia had to open the pane to look outside. Her bat flew upstairs to find a warm cozy spot to spend the next few hours.

Cora and Thalia stayed up.

Another hour passed. Dwyn brought them a cup of tea, and from upstairs Cora heard the sounds of the house going to sleep. She sent Dwyn to bed as well, and though she forced herself to drink, she couldn't get through more than half of the cup, and the liquid inside grew cold.

"He'll be back before dawn," Thalia said, but it didn't sound like one of her usual predictions. Cora didn't know if she was telling it to her, or herself.

Another hour. They were sitting on opposite sides of the couch now, in silence, eyes heavy with sleep but kept open by worry. Cora couldn't stop thinking of all the things that could've gone wrong.

What if Harry hadn't found a way out like they had? What if he'd been caught?

And, at last, though she immediately regretted thinking about it: would Ives help them find him, if they asked him?

But Ives wasn't there, and neither was Harry, and she was so terrified she didn't know what to think.

One more hour passed, and suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Cora jumped up and Thalia ran to the front door, opening it without even checking who was on the other side.

But it wasn't one of Soren's guards—it was Harry.

"What happened?" Thalia asked in the moment he stepped inside.

"Chaos in the city." His reply came muttered, the black cloak almost swallowing him whole as he walked to the couch, tiredness in his step. "I barely got out."

Thalia frowned. "What kind of chaos?"

Cora's head snapped towards her. How could she not know? Knowing things was what she did best. But she hadn't known where Harry was, and now she seemed not to know what had taken place in the same town she'd been in until some hours before.

Harry slipped the cloak off his shoulders and Cora caught it; the shirt he was wearing underneath was crumpled up and covered in dark spots. Her heart jumped in her chest, but he didn't seem to be hurt—just dishevelled. What had happened?

"I'll come with you the next time," Thalia said when he didn't reply, "I completely lost sight of you. Maybe the king has put up some barriers—" Her voice died in her throat when Harry slipped a ring off his finger. It fell on the tea table with a clink, simple yet dusty, as if it had been in the middle of a disaster. There was a mark on his hand, right where the piece of jewellery had touched him, as if it'd scorched him. "What did you do?!" she hissed through her teeth.

Cora picked the ring up, studying it with a frown. She'd never seen him wear it before. Her fingers tingled, and she let it fall.

"An iron ring, Harry? Really?" Thalia was now saying, a venomous look in her eyes. "How could you be so—"

"I thought it best to be safe," Harry replied, studying the burned circle around his finger. He grazed it, but Thalia pushed his hand back.

"Don't you dare," she muttered, putting her hand over it. When she let go the mark could still be seen, but Cora was certain it didn't hurt like before—nor it looked nearly as bad.

"I had some suspicions," Harry continued, checking if he could move his fingers as usual, "shielding my magic seemed a good idea."

"Shielding your magic?!" Thalia exclaimed, "you shielded yourself from everyone's! You could not be perceived, it was like you didn't exist—" She looked at his hand. "You wore iron, Harry. How could you think it was a good idea? It'll take you hours to recover, what if you'd been caught?!"

Harry let out a sigh. "The royal guards would've put iron on me in that case, so it would've mattered little that I was already wearing it."

"How could you be so careless..."

"The king has a fay."

Thalia's eyes widened. "How do you know?"

"I saw her." Harry sat on the couch, his exhausted frame crumbling against the cushions. "This is bigger than we thought."

Thalia sent a worried glance in Cora's direction. "Do we know who it is?"

"Yes, we do," Harry replied. "You'd be surprised. Or maybe you wouldn't be."

Thalia's gaze darkened. "Of course it's her." She'd never sounded so enraged before. "So it's a war the king wants, but he's also putting us against each other."

"The perfect way to regain control over the island," Harry continued for her. "Though I'm sure there's more. Inciting a civil war while he's barely got his hold on the throne seems reckless. And there's also the matter of..." He let his words trail away and sent Cora a look.

"The Moonvall family has always been characterised by hate and greed."

Harry nodded in Thalia's direction and stood up. He swayed a little, and put his hand on the back of the couch to straighten himself. Cora wondered what he'd gone through to get out of Evandra and make sure he wouldn't be followed.

The ring glared at them from the tea table, only apparently harmless. Thalia picked it up with the hem of the discarded cloak and put it away, sending Harry a long look, that he dutifully ignored.

He turned to the stairs, pausing and turning his head when he realised he was the only one going up. "Aren't you coming?" he asked, his eyes burning into Cora's from over his shoulder.

She dropped the cloak on one of the couches and followed him upstairs.

The stairs were dark, she noticed, no lamps were on at that late hour. She stepped closer to Harry, as if his presence would be better assurance of her not tripping than her own muscle memory.

"You didn't have to wait for me," he said after a moment, his voice resonating through the narrow corridor despite its soft edge. He didn't stop nor glance Cora's way, but she could feel his attention on her.

"I couldn't sleep not knowing where you were." Her palms were tingly, as if they were itching to touch his frame, only inches away from her. But she felt like there was a wall between them, and this time he wasn't the one that put it there—it was only her fault, though not intentional, because he had left her in the house and she had followed him, and she didn't know what he'd say if he found out. Would he be mad, or disappointed? Would he rethink his every action with her, would he decide he was right after all, and that them being together meant she was in danger?

She didn't want it to happen—there was some irony in it, since she was putting distance between them to keep it from happening. There was no doubt he'd noticed it too, though he still hadn't found it relevant enough to bring up.

He didn't reply, and they walked in silence for a while. They stopped in front of her room. He turned his head and hesitated for a moment, but didn't meet her eyes.

"Have I done something to anger you?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper.

The chilly air stilled. Cora held her breath for a moment, as if she worried he'd search for an answer in the barest sound that left her. "You haven't," she whispered.

Tension she hadn't even realised was there left his shoulders, and they sagged, a reflection of his exhaustion. The night was slowly starting to drift towards the first morning hours, and he'd been out in the cold for far too long. Winter had never been known for being merciful at that time of the year, and—her breath caught, and her gaze fell to the frosted window at her side. It hadn't snowed, yet she could sense there was ice all over the silent nature outside. Maybe it was the late hour or her desperation to feel something more, but it was like it called to her, whispering its silent truths.

It was solstice. She felt a pang of sadness at the memory of her celebrations with her aunt, a sea away now. She missed the feeling of belonging somewhere—of having a family. In Harry's mansion, there was him, and Thalia and Iris, and then there was Oden, and then Cora. They lived under the same roof, but they all had secrets, and they all kept their distance in their own way. She felt lonely.

"Will you come up with me, then?" Harry asked. She could see the line of his profile in the frost-reflected moonlight, and she could tell he was still trying not to meet her eyes—as if he was scared she'd step away, or maybe out of guilt for something he hadn't done. She couldn't tell.

The answer felt natural. "Yes."

She heard him draw in a breath, as if it somehow surprised him, but he tried not to show it. He turned the corner and walked up the stairs, and she went after him.

She caught his wrist while they were on the stairs, and he turned her way. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure," he murmured. The shadows on his face stretched longer in the darkness. "I suppose..." He paused, pondering his answer. "I thought I knew what the king was after, but now I have the feeling I was wrong." He frowned. "He didn't meet the Count of Iven. I still haven't told Thalia."

"You had the wrong information," Cora said, and he nodded.

"I'm left to wonder why, now. Maybe it was supposed to be a trap, though it didn't hold. Or, maybe, he wanted us to know he's working with one of us. I can't figure out why, though, and that scares me. I think we're missing something important, while he's circling closer and closer."

Cora couldn't imagine it being a trap, though she'd noticed the higher amount of guards and the gate being closed early. But it didn't feel like a trap to her—more like some wishful thinking. Maybe Soren would've liked catching one of them, but she was certain that hadn't been his true objective. Maybe Harry was right, and there was something they were yet to see. It made her nervous.

"I didn't mean to make you worry," Harry continued when he took in her silence. "As always, we're safe here. We'll come up with a better plan."

A better plan. The words made Cora want to laugh. They were four against an entire army, there was no plan—there had never been, not for them, at least. Even if Soren moved forth, there was nothing they could do to stop him. At most, they could find out what he was after, they could stall him a little, maybe, luck permitting, but that was all. There was no true hope for them—how couldn't they see it?

But she didn't want him to think he'd made a mistake by letting her in on their secrets, so she gave him a little smile and said, "I know."

Harry studied her face for a long moment, as if he believed he could see what she wasn't saying in her eyes. And maybe he could because she'd been told more than once they were too expressive, so she surpassed him and went up the stairs.

"Your hands are cold. I'll draw you a bath."

She entered his bedroom—all the lamps were off, now, surely the work of Raven or Dwyn—and went straight to the bathroom. It was a little annoying to have to work in the mild darkness, but she had no intention to try to turn on one of the lamps herself and either end up disappointed or accidentally set the mansion on fire.

Every time she used her magic it became easier, so it wasn't hard to pour the soap she found in the bathtub and fill it with warm water. She checked the temperature with a finger to make sure it wasn't too hot and then hummed to herself, a faint smile curving her lips. There was something of so satisfying in calling to her ability and seeing it answer back—it felt like she'd regained something she hadn't even known she'd lost.

She turned around and jolted when she noticed Harry was leaning against the doorframe, observing her. He looked away when their eyes caught and moved to the side of the room, fiddling with something in the darkness. The flame of a match lit up with a hiss, and he went around the room, lighting the lamps.

"It's ready," Cora said, stumbling between words and jumping up from the edge of the bathtub in the sudden golden illumination.

Harry's gaze went from her to the stone bathtub embedded in the floor, and then back to her. "Thank you."

Cora gave him a little smile, and then there was silence, and they stood in front of each other awkwardly.

"I'll give you three options," Harry whispered after some seconds had trickled by, a smile curving his lips. "You can either turn away, I can steal your sight with a glamour, or you can stay and watch."

Cora blushed wildly and turned to face the wall, hearing him chuckle.

"As expected. Though I did hope you'd choose the third."

Her cheeks got even hotter, and she only realised that the door was at the other end of the room when she heard fabric fall to the floor, and then water moving. She widened her eyes and stilled. She counted to ten, then to thirty, then sixty, as she tried to remember the amount of soap she'd put in the bathtub. What now?

"You can turn around," Harry said, but Cora couldn't move. She could hardly get herself to breathe. There was another faint laugh. "Cora."

She turned and dared to gaze into the room through the fingers covering her face. Either she'd poured the right amount of soap or the stars had heard her, because she could see nothing below the water level.

Harry's back was to her, his shoulders against the side of the bathtub. His hair was still dry, and one of his elbows was perched up on the edge, his fingers playing with a bubble in the water.

The door was closed now, though she didn't remember hearing him shut it. She knew the right thing to do would be to turn around and leave, but her feet didn't move.

He turned his head just barely. "I can feel your gaze on me," he whispered. His voice seemed much louder in the large, empty room.

Cora hesitantly took a step forward, then two. "How could you know I'm looking at you? You aren't Thalia," she said, somewhat stubbornly, kneeling behind him, and earned a laugh from him.

He leant his head back, and it landed on her thighs. If he was surprised, he didn't let it show. "I just know." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I seem to be all too aware of my surroundings whenever you're concerned."

After a moment of hesitation, she brushed her fingers through his hair. He let out a hum, his fingers stilling on the surface of the water. The line of the ring was still visible on his finger, a reminder of the lengths he'd gone to be unnoticed in the city.

"I know you followed me," Harry murmured after a while, his voice soft. "I saw you."

Cora stilled. "You didn't come."

"You were with Thalia," he replied, "and I was being chased. I didn't think it would be wise." There was a short pause. "I'm not angry, in case you're wondering. I just wish you hadn't lied to me."

She went back to playing with his hair. "You wouldn't have let me come with you."

A faint nod from him. "It wasn't safe. But it's safer with Thalia. She's quite skilled at avoiding trouble." He opened his eyes and looked up at her; Cora was stunned to see how green they looked that night. Maybe it was the magic of solstice. She discarded her silly thought instantly. "I don't want you near him. The king. I don't like that he's looking for you."

"I didn't go near him," Cora replied. It was a half lie, and she itched to change subject. "I'll do your hair."

Harry lifted his head and sat up, and she worked soap through his curls with her fingers, keeping all her focus on what she was doing to ignore how intimate the situation was. When the moment came to wash away the soap, Harry changed positions. He put some distance between him and the edge of the bathtub and sat straighter, unveiling the long scar that cut through the faded mark on his back.

Cora paused in the action of pouring water on his hair. "The mark on your back," she asked faintly, "what does it stand for?" She already knew the answer, but she'd never talked to him about it, and didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"You have a last name, Cora, don't you?" Harry asked instead, and she tilted her head. "You should, though it isn't yours truly." Harry replied, "Most likely your aunt's." His head hung low, wet hair dripping water on his face. "On my back, I carry the mark of the family I was born into. And the scar across it says it's not to welcome me ever again, and tells everyone else I'm not to be trusted."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a traitor."

"Are you?"

His answer was sharp. "It doesn't matter." He sunk into the bathtub, disappearing under the surface of the water for some long moments.

Cora didn't move. She didn't know what to make of what he'd told her—but he was quite certain he wasn't a traitor. Whatever had happened, there had to be an explanation. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, similar to what had happened to Iris.

Harry came back up and drew in a breath. "There should be towels in the cabinet," he said, and she stood up.

She pulled out one large enough to cover her eyes with as she held it up. She heard a faint chuckle and water moving. He was agile and light on his feet as always, and she didn't even hear him come towards her before he took it from her grasp and wrapped it around his middle.

He cleaned the fogged mirror on his side with his hand. "Do you remember the nights after I took you from the prisons of your city?" he asked, voice low. "How we slept together?"

It hadn't been long since the last time they'd slept side by side, not counting the night he'd come down with a fever, but Cora instantly understood what he meant. Back then, he'd given her an option—to sleep beside Thalia, or to sleep beside him. It'd been her choice to sleep in his wagon with him—a choice she hadn't had in the ship, or when they were running from Idais.

"I do."

"Will you spend the night with me again?"

Cora was surprised to find out she didn't have to think about her answer. "Yes." Maybe she too was longing for company in the darkness of the night of solstice, so cold when it should've been so warm, or maybe she didn't want to part from him just yet. She wasn't sure.

There was a faint smile on his lips. "I should dry up and get dressed."

"I'll wait for you in the room."

The curtains covering the door to the balcony in his bedroom were still pulled open. There was frost on the windowpanes, and she found her awareness reaching for it as she waited, trying to melt it. The first few tries failed, but then she realised her mistake, and she seized control of the water it was made of instead. She raised its temperature, slowly, and the ice melted in cold drops.

She smiled and looked through the glass. Outside, there was nothing but the night, the woods, and a red line in the horizon.

Thank you so much for the 310k reads on this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki