"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not some prize parrot for you to gawk at."

"But we'd all like to see it," Edeline says.

On the first of May, fourteen of the citadel's residents stand on the open lawn by the rose garden. Every color outside is the freshest version of itself: the wide blue of the sky, the dazzling green of the grass. In the garden, Fallon's tender care has yielded roses in every blushing shade of pink and red, with the occasional orange, yellow, and white blooms dappled throughout.

In the center of the group stands Tai, internally exalting at his hold over their attention. At Edeline's request, he finally relents. If it can amaze the best archer he knows, then he'll know it's truly impressive.

Pulling the bottle of sand from his belt, he uncorks it and lets the silver particles run joyfully onto his palm, moving restlessly in little swirls. He concentrates until they coalesce into their typical longsword. Then, he lets his mind step another way.

His audience watches with rapt attention as the sword spirals downward into a long knife, then soars again into becoming a spear. He holds it out for them to have a better view of its solidity and impeccable form.

"It becomes any weapon you think of?" Edeline asks.

"Yes. But nothing outside of weaponry. I can't, for example, form a rolling pin out of thin air."

"But how will we fight the specters without that?" Marikit says, lounging cross-legged in the grass and looking unimpressed. "Remind me why you never thought to tell us about this before?"

Tai crushes the spear in his hand, letting it dissolve into falling dust that he directs back into the bottle. "I'd hardly call it your business."

"Tactless as ever, Tai." In one fluid motion, she pushes herself into standing. "I think we've wasted enough time with his showboating. I have something new in mind for our training today, but I'll need a few volunteers to try it out."

Lionel is always fearless, but especially so on a faultless spring morning. He eagerly offers.

"If we'll be doing anything akin to a game, I'd like to leave now," Tai says, stone-faced.

"I'll take that as you volunteering." She speaks over Tai's sounds of protest. "Now, you each pick a partner."

Lionel tugs on his brother's reluctant arm. Skander's a little flattered to be chosen over Lionel's infatuation with Zahara, but he doubts he'll be able to contribute anything substantial in a game run by Marikit.

Tai, for his part, selects Edeline right away.

Marikit describes the game as consisting of three rounds: two races and a final test of accuracy. She positions Lionel and Edeline on the end of the lawn that stands opposite to the rose garden. Whoever is the first to run across the space, climb over the low wall, and reach the top of the tree in the garden's center will win the first round.

"Can we use our gifts during the race?" Lionel asks.

"You mean, can you turn into a bird and fly to the top of the tree without any running or climbing?" Marikit asks flatly. "I'd rather you didn't. Really, this is already much easier than the way I learned."

Skander's a little afraid to know what exactly that way was.

Before their competition begins, Lionel and Edeline take their places, the latter's eyes fixated on the tree she'll be sprinting toward. Lionel, on the other hand, stands loosely and nonchalantly, smiling widely as ever. He looks to their assembled audience, searching out a face in the crowd.

"Are you watching, Zahara?" he asks, voice lilting. Zahara, pleased and a little shy, smiles at him.

When Marikit indicates that they should start, Lionel's calm and easy grace doesn't leave him even as he dashes across the broad spread of grass, closely followed by Edeline. He gains a distinct advantage when they get to the low wall separating them from the rose garden.

Gripping the stones, Lionel vaults himself across with such simple disregard for typical human movement that Skander suspects his gift may bolster his agility even outside of his bird-form. His brother has always been swift, but this light-footedness is almost otherworldly.

He climbs the branches of the tree as if they're the rungs of a ladder, reaching the top before Edeline's gotten herself steady on the first branch.

Victorious, he returns to Skander, who's impressed despite his brother's typical disregard for caution.

"One more round and we'll win," Lionel tells him in between deep pulls of air into his lungs. That, at least, reminds Skander that he's human.

The second race is between Skander and Tai, and rewards endurance.

Marikit gestures toward two sacks of grain on the ground. "Be the first to carry the grain to the other side."

Skander looks closely at the sacks. "Did you bring these from the kitchen?"

Tai glances at him. "You're wondering whether an admitted pirate took something without permission? I think you already know the answer."

The grain is heavier than it looks. Skander knows this already from working in the kitchen every day, so he believes he might actually have the advantage in this one.

That belief makes it even more disappointing when Tai steps over the end-line a mere second before him, both red-faced and panting from the exertion as they drop their carefully-tied sacks onto the ground. Marikit is sadistic, Skander thinks, waiting to catch his breath.

He knows he shouldn't be too discouraged by the loss: Tai has grown up and trained with a mother famed for her fighting skill, and he has the tallest build in the citadel. It isn't surprising that he'd excel in a feat of strength.

Skander pushes his hair out of his face as Edeline comes to congratulate Tai. "We're even with them now," she's saying.

"It was a simple task. Honestly, I expected Marikit's ideas to be a little more impressive," Tai says, as if he isn't still breathless from the endeavor.

"I was working with what I had. I couldn't exactly fashion a ropes course on the deck of a swaying ship in this place," Marikit says, but Tai only continues his boasting. He must really be exalting in his victory and from his demonstration this morning if he's being even more unrepentantly arrogant than usual.

Catching sight of Skander's irritated glare over Edeline's shoulder, Tai responds with a grin and a wink.

Skander's face and neck begin to flush. He didn't know Tai could even do something as nonchalant as wink. Seeing his brother's countenance, Lionel assumes his reddening is from anger and comforts him: "Don't worry; we can still win."

But the third task, unfortunately for them, is one of accuracy. Lionel puts on an impressive display with the throwing of his knives, but Edeline's arrows sink into the target dead-center every time, effortlessly securing their win.

"Congratulations," Marikit says, but only to Edeline.

Tai hardly notices.

The spectators take turns lauding the winning partners and consoling the losing ones, until Dalmar cuts through their animation with an armful of linen strips.

"That's enough sharp objects for one day. Learn to heal something instead of stabbing it, for once," he says, beginning to pass the bandages around.

Using Marikit as an example, Dalmar demonstrates how to wrap an arm wound: starting from below, wrapping it snugly without constricting blood-flow, and tying it off at the end.

"I used to patch Kit up all the time," he says affectionately, bent over his task.

Marikit smiles at the reminder, holding her arm out obediently while Dalmar finishes tying the cloth in place. "That's how we met," she tells them. "He was my first friend off the ship." But, as in every other case of her mentioning her old occupation, she doesn't share any more than that.

His exhibition complete, Dalmar instructs them to pair off to practice.

This time, Skander really does lose his brother's companionship to Zahara, who offers her arm for Lionel to attend to. Skander's surprised to see his normally-carefree brother hold Zahara's arm as gently as he does, reverence evident in his voice as he checks to make sure it isn't too tight.

"I want to make sure you can still hold a brush," he jokes with her.

Whatever surprise Skander feels at witnessing this is eclipsed by who approaches him as a partner instead, an arm suddenly held out stiffly for his attention.

"I've been terribly wounded," Tai says flatly.

Skander, still a bit embittered by his earlier loss, reluctantly takes hold of Tai's arm.

"Fold your sleeve up," he says.

"I'm bleeding out. You do it."

Lazy. What grand tragedy happened to him, to justify him being this way? Silver spoon not shiny enough?

Skander shifts the linen cloth out of his grip to free up his hands. He folds the arm of Tai's overcoat up to his elbow, baring the pale skin of his forearm.

Using one hand to hold the bandage in place, he begins wrapping the cloth around Tai's arm. His skin is cool to the touch. 

Despite himself, he's reminded of that March afternoon when he had pulled Tai behind him in their dash down the streets, the spring wind rushing up to meet them.

Even with the mild fear of pursuit, he had felt alight.

He's almost embarrassed about it now, to think back on how much he had ended up laughing then. 

The remembrance softens him, though, and he decides to play along, saying, "How'd you end up with such an awful injury?"

Tai's eyes shift to his own, close and conspiratorial. But inside, his mind gives a startled blink. Shockingly, Tai doesn't have much experience trying to make someone smile.

Finally, grasping for anything, he says, "I was jousting."

"Jousting?" Skander says, incredulous. No one in Beledon practices that. It's more common in Antamery, the city across the mountains.

"Yes. I doubt you know how; it's not something rustic folk would understand."

Skander secures the bandage around his arm with a little too-tight of a knot for that one.

Tai, undaunted, watches as Skander presses his thumb against his wrist, ensuring from the pace of Tai's pulse that the wrapping doesn't inhibit his circulation.

"Did you win, at least?" Skander says, gently sliding part of his hand under the bandage to check again that it isn't too constraining.

Tai blinks through the warmth of the sensation. "What?"

Skander frowns at his inattentiveness. "I asked if you won the joust."

"Unfortunately not. I fell off my horse and impaled my arm on my own lance, which is the grisly sight you see before you today." He displays his perfectly intact arm for Skander's benefit. "I'll have to replace my horse for the insult."

"Well, if you ever need help carrying one off again, I'll come along," Skander says. He pulls the wrapping off of Tai and offers his own arm instead. "Your turn."

Tai tugs Skander's sleeve up and begins applying the bandage with clear concentration. He does everything so bluntly, with singleminded purpose. To be the object of that attention is heady, even if it's only Skander's arm on the receiving end.

"You haven't asked me how I became hurt," he says.

Tai meets his eyes, realizing, He's going to try to make me laugh. He doesn't know what to do with the sweet rush of knowing that.

"How, then?" he asks.

Skander straightens. "You might not know this, since it's so particular to 'rustic folk' like me, but every year my village holds a dancing competition, in contention for a great honor. I got a little overzealous during it, and injured myself in a fall."

"What honor were you trying to win?" Tai asks softly, winding the cloth around and around.

"To be able to wait hand and foot on the illustrious Kato family, particularly the younger son." Feeling daring, Skander reaches his free hand up to tug once at Tai's embroidered lapel. "It's very important to us, you know. We dream of the privilege of catering to their every need."

Tai's hands finish their wrapping and check Skander's pulse, their coolness a soothing presence on the delicate skin of his wrist. "How do you compete?" he asks.

"Whoever's dance gives the best impression of a peacock, gets to serve the family full of them."

Surprised, Tai huffs out what might be thought of as half of a laugh. It's enough for Skander to glow with victory. 

Far away and out of earshot, Giada and Edeline quickly finish their own wrappings.

Giada wastes no time in leaving the lawn and returning inside, making her way through the halls. She doesn't want to linger in the sunshine, under the same sky where Zahara and Lionel bend their heads together as they talk.

In the months since winter, her frustration with Lionel has faded into a more muted sadness, which is somehow worse. Given the choice, she'd rather burn with the former than languish in the latter.

Footsteps behind her serve as a warning that Edeline is following, obviously having picked up on her sister's taciturn mood and unwilling to leave her alone.

Giada appreciates it, she does, but she wonders if Edeline even understands any of what she's feeling.

On days like these, when Hilo is off lecturing at the university instead of at the citadel, Edeline misses him of course. But when he's here, she has him, and her contentment with that brightens her life.

Meanwhile, Giada feels small and saddened, as if she's become less of herself. What light on the horizon is there to fix something like that?

At the end of the wide hall where they walk, in a corner of shadows, Giada spots a door. It's relatively unassuming, the only detail of note being the metal knocker it bears in the image of an owl. She pauses in front of it.

Edeline catches up to her to see what caught her interest. "I had forgotten about this. We found it in autumn, but it doesn't lead anywhere."

Giada looks at it, considering. "Did you knock first?"

Her sister frowns. "Why would we have done that? There's nothing on the other side."

Ignoring Edeline's logic, Giada reaches out and knocks firmly, the deep sound reverberating through her bones.

As her hand then drifts to the door's handle, Giada finds herself truly understanding Jasper for the first time. The ability to trade one surrounding for another is an intoxicating prospect.

And right now, she would do anything to be anywhere else.

Before Edeline can finish saying "Wait, Giada", and right as Jasper suddenly appears from thin air, bumping into them with a quick apology, she opens the door.

All three disappear from the hall.

Author's Note: Time to reintroduce the plot.

Also, fun fact, Skander was interested first.