Zetaru’s meeting continues to gnaw at me as the days pass. Even as Nek talks of wedding plans, as Yequirael takes measurements for ceremonial attire, as word spreads throughout the city—I find my attention drifting, clouded by vague feelings of anxiety. We’ve tested the barrier’s activation. In theory, it should keep out any gods once we turn it on. But it’s still just theory. What if I’m missing something? What if they have a way around our spells? What if it’s not strong enough to withstand the might of the Heavens?

  And how will we stop the champions who are too young to be blocked by the barrier’s age filter?

  Right now my only hope is that other young champions, like Aquenno, are close-to-mortal enough that we should be able to handle them on our own. But that’s a weak reassurance; what sort of destruction could they bring upon the city or its inhabitants before they’re stopped?

  They could take out the barrier spells from inside, if they knew where to look.

  We aren’t prepared nearly as much as I’d like. We need to perform a real test. Against actual gods and champions.

  Mirzayael sighs, picking up a blueseed fruit tart to examine. “If we must.”

  I startle out of my thoughts. We’re in the kitchen, tasting different treats the cooks are excited to share with us. It’s not explicitly a competition between the chefs, but they’re all watching eagerly to see what we’ll choose to feature at the wedding feast.

  “What?” I ask Mirzayael. My mind had drifted off once again.

  “Testing the barrier.” She takes a bite out of the tart, her eyes lighting up in delight, and holds out the rest for me. “Testing it against gods and champions. I agree it would be wise to verify they will operate as intended when put to the test.”

  Too surprised to respond, I take the tart from Mirzayael and pop it into my mouth. Sweet and sour berries burst in my mouth. “You heard that?”

  She chuckles, moving onto a different plate. “You’re getting worse at hiding your thoughts.”

  “I think you’re just getting better at reading my mind.” I pick up a spherical yellow cookie that smells like a lemon and take a nibble of that one next. It practically melts on my tongue. “Oh, these are all so delightful!”

  “You’ve outdone yourselves,” Mirzayael tells the chefs. They beam at her exceptionally rare praise.

  “Which ones should we go with?” I ask her.

  Her mouth quirks with a hint of a smile. “I’d hazard a guess you’d like to feature all of them.”

  I chuckle. “Mind-reader.”

  “You’re just easy to predict.”

  After speaking with the chefs on their plans for the feast and thanking them for making such wonderful treats (and in return being thanked profusely for our thanks, narrowing avoiding a precarious feedback loop), Mirzayael and I head off to our next tasks of the day.

  Though I suppose with tasks like “taste-testing desserts,” being a ruler isn’t all bad.

  “I’m surprised you’d agree to working with the pantheon,” I think as we stroll through the palace.

  She mentally grumbles. “Isn’t that what we’re already doing?”

  “At best I’d say we’re currently under surveillance,” I reply. “But inviting them to test the barrier and learn how it functions is placing more trust in them than I would have thought you’re comfortable with.”

  “I’m not comfortable with it,” she thinks bluntly. “But that doesn’t mean I am against the idea. As for Blair and Aquenno…” She trails off, mulling over the thoughts. “I suppose I do trust them.”

  I look up at her in surprise.

  “To a minor extent!” she quickly revises. “They haven’t exposed us to Lorata, which at least demonstrates they’ve kept their word on maintaining our anonymity. If they wanted to turn us over, they already would have.” She glances down at me, then does a double-take. “What is it? Why are you smiling like that?”

  I take her hand and squeeze it. “I’m just so proud of you.”

  She squirms beneath my look. “I don’t know what there is to be proud of.”

  “Putting the city’s needs above your own instincts and wants… that’s brave,” I say.

  She just snorts.

  “It is,” I insist. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

  Her mental walls soften. “No. I’m always afraid.”

  “You can be both.”

  She grunts noncommittally. “So about your plan to test the barrier.”

  I graciously allow the change in conversation without comment. “We’ll need one god and one young champion if we want to test both use cases where we might have a vulnerability.”

  “Blair and Aquenno,” she surmises.

  “Ideally,” I agree. “But I wanted to get your permission to contact them about this, first.”

  Mirzayael grimaces. “Well, you have it. But I want to keep this test between you and I. There’s no reason to alarm Fyrethians without due purpose.”

  “Hmm.” The swirling orange barrier that will enclose the city isn’t exactly subtle. Everyone will be aware of what’s happening. So how to make the test a secret?

  “Maybe we keep the test secret by telling everyone about it,” I muse.

  Mirzayael raises a skeptical eyebrow. “How in the world does that keep it secret?”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “We could schedule a barrier activation,” I say. “Tell the whole city in advance. Announce that we’ll start doing these regularly, maybe once every few months, just for maintenance and fine-tuning. And while it’s up, we’ll work with Blair and Aquenno to test the capabilities of the barrier somewhere away from the public eye.”

  Mirzayael considers this. “That could work. We’d need to be careful about where and how we do this test. But if the city is expecting it, no one should be suspicious.”

  “Then let’s do it,” I say. “As soon as possible. Though, that will likely depend on Blair’s availability. I haven’t been able to reach her recently.”

  I mentally bring up my Contacts interface, which is actually starting to turn into a decent list. From top to bottom, it reads:

  Blair

  L

  Kanin

  Ollie

  Sandro

  I’ve used it a handful of times with Sandro and Kanin, but it’s a moot point with Ollie given our Psionic Link. As for the gods… I’ve been reluctant to invite either of their company, at least for Mirzayael’s benefit if nothing else.

  I bring up Blair’s window now and send a message.

  [Fyre: I have a favor to ask of you. We have a way we think we can protect our city—but we need to make sure it can actually withstand a god. Would you be willing to help us?]

  The message sends. Then, after a moment, it vanishes. New text appears in the interface:

  [Message failed to deliver]

  “Shoot. I can’t reach Blair. She must be in the Heavens,” I tell Mirzayael. “I’m not even sure if Aquenno could reach her from out here.”

  Mirzayael makes a displeased sound, although I would not go so far as to say she’s disappointed. “We could always ask him just to be sure.”

  “Agreed.” I chew on my lip. We won’t have much time to set this all up. We need to confirm the barrier will work before Kanin attempts to break into the Heavens. “But if we can’t reach her in a timely manner, we do have one alternative.”

  Mirzayael winces at my thoughts. “That does not even bear thinking about. Come. Let’s find Aquenno.”

  The first and perhaps only time Mirzayael seems eager to speak with the champion.

  We find Kanin studying in the library, where all of our arcana texts are being stored. “Library” is somewhat generous, considering the stone shelves I had the Core quickly manifest, and the haphazard stacks of scrolls and books that fill the shelves in no discernable order. One day I’ll get around to tidying this place up.

  After I’m done fixing up everything else.

  We pull the nereid off to the side, and Kanin distractedly waves us on, absorbed in one of the tomes. Or, several, actually. A disembodied set of glass hands carry another scroll over to the table he’s working at, while more still are flattening out a map at a different table. A sphere of glass hovers over that one, presumably for him to look through. How can he read so many things at once? Does Ink have something to do with it?

  “You wished to speak with me?” Aquenno asks, dragging my attention reluctantly away from Kanin. I realize I’ve been lingering in the doorway, staring in fascination—a look Kanin has almost certainly noticed given his ability to see in multiple directions at once. I quickly duck out, meeting Mirzayael and Aquenno in the hall.

  “We want to know if it’s possible for you to contact Blair,” Mirzayael says, getting right to the chase.

  Aquenno laughs. Mirzayael waits patiently. Aquenno’s smile fades, and he glances between the two of us. “You want to talk to Blair?”

  “We need her help,” I explain. “Yours, too. We want to ensure our city is truly protected—and we’ll only know that if we have a god to test our defenses.”

  Aquenno hardly appears delighted by this news. “You want to use Blair? As a test?” He wrinkles his nose. “Even if I could contact her right now, I dislike the presumptuousness of this ask.”

  “I know,” I say quickly, already sensing a defensive response bubbling up from Mirzayael. “It’s a lot to ask. But we need her help. We need your help.”

  Some of the heat leaves his expression, and he grimaces in sympathy. “As I said, I can’t contact her at the moment. I’ve already left a message for her to find when she visits the mortal realm again. When she does, she’ll come straight here. Unfortunately, I don’t know when that might be.”

  There’s something off in his tone. A thread of tension, I think, that wasn’t there before. “Is everything okay?” I ask him. “Does she usually go this long without checking in?”

  His expression immediately goes stoney, as if he’s about to blow me off. But then the look crumbles, and he suddenly appears tired and worn.

  “I’m not sure,” the champion admits. “The last time we spoke, she had only told me that something was causing quite a stir in the Heavens. Probably something to do with one of you Travelers. But she didn’t elaborate before she left. And she’s never been gone this long before.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, truly sympathetic. No wonder he responded so testily. Aquenno may be her champion, but I can tell he also genuinely cares for her.

  So it hurts me to ask the next question, but it needs to be said. “You don’t think they might have found out about what she’s done for us?”

  Aquenno shakes his head. “If she was under such scrutiny, we wouldn’t still be here and able to have this conversation. But I suspect whatever is going on has resulted in fewer openings to visit the mortal realm. All I can do is wait.”

  “I see,” Mirzayael says. “Thank you for your transparency.”

  The champion gives her a peculiar look. “You’re welcome.” He dips his head toward both of us. “Then, if that is all, I’ll return to my duties.”

  We return the hint of a bow, and Aquenno leaves to continue shadowing Kanin. Mirzayael and I go quiet as we consider our options.

  “I don’t like it,” she finally thinks. “Isn’t this exactly the type of thing he might orchestrate in order to get us to come to him for help?”

  “I highly doubt Shirasil is the cause of this.” I pause. “Well, I doubt he intended to cut us off from Blair. But I only slightly doubt that he’s responsible for whatever trouble is occurring in the Heavens.”

  “How long can we afford to wait?” Mirzayael asks.

  “If we want to give the city at least one week’s notice for the test, and ensure it happens before Kanin sneaks into the Heavens, then we have… Maybe ten days, at the most. Sooner would be better.”

  Mirzayael swears under her breath. “Are you certain Shirasil can be trusted?”

  He is helping us with finding other Travelers. He’s kept our secret. He’s answered questions I’ve had about the gods and remnants—if not a bit cryptically. It almost seems unfair to not trust him after all that.

  “I think he’ll help,” I reply, which I acknowledge isn’t exactly an answer to her question. “I think he’s our best bet at ensuring we’re ready to face Lorata.”

  A thread of anger weaves through Mirzayael’s mind at the name. However suspicious she is of Shirasil, she’s an order of magnitude more angry with Lorata.

  “Fine,” she allows. “You can reach out. But if Blair replies first, we’ll work with her.”

  “Understood.” And I’m in complete agreement.

  I pull up the Contact interface once more, this time opening the window simply marked L. I’ll have to ask him how he did that, at some point. As far as I can tell, there’s no way to alter the way your name displays in the Contact list—and if Blair could do so, I assume she would have as well.

  I type out the same message I’d written to Blair.

  [Fyre: I have a favor to ask of you. We have a way we think we can protect our city—but we need to make sure it can actually withstand a god. Would you be willing to help us?]

  Then I stare at the words, hesitating before I send them.

  I delete the message and start again.

  [Fyre: I have an experiment I need to run. Would you like to be our test subject?]

  That’s more speaking his language. I send it, then close the interface. I guess that’s that. In the meantime, I’ll continue to reach out to Blair once a day to see if—

  A notification pops up in my vision.

  [L: I thought you’d never ask!!!]

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