Anadae had been so serious, a perfect Helm daughter, when they were kids. Even when Ezzyn had tutored her as a teen, her magic use had been strictly academic. Calya had never known her sister harbored a secret desire to pursue her magical education. She’d never known the kind of mage Anadae could be. In her tunnel vision of a Helm Naval where the sisters ruled the company in tandem, Calya had assumed that, since Anadae had never mentioned wanting something different, a different outcome didn’t exist.
Anadae had changed, and Calya could finally see how it was for the better. See that her sister was happy, more truly herself. Now, it was Calya alone who remained the same. Who still wanted the same thing, despite the costs. The humiliation, the fucking sting of being assigned a trustee. Yet in spite of it all, she stayed the course. Remained unfailingly committed, as Ezzyn said. Fixated, others might assert, but what was so wrong about remaining steadfast in her wants?
“I still fuck up sometimes,” Calya whispered. “Call her Ana. In my head.” She glanced at Ezzyn. “Do you?”
He watched as Anadae bid goodbye to the lake and trailed her fingers through the shallows. “It’s different for you. Harder. You weren’t there to see how she found her way.” He spoke gently, without rebuke, yet the words nipped at Calya’s skin all the same. “You had to be told how ‘Ana’ no longer fit, whereas the rest of us lived it. It’ll feel more natural with time.”
Calya didn’t begrudge her sister’s happiness, but envy lingered. That Anadae’s happiness was so… simple. Not uncomplicated, not without work, but in the end, her happiness could be found in magic and a man. She didn’t have to choose, and both could be attained. Kept. Calya had always known her path, yet it felt like she hadn’t come any closer to achieving anything. She had no magic, and though in essence a man was at the heart of the crux of her happiness, he was not a prize but a gatekeeper. Anadae had realized what she truly wanted and transformed her life to get it. Calya didn’t know if she could do the same. If capitulating to her father’s stated whims would ever be enough.
She refused to bend instead. Would grind away until even Andrin Helm’s stubborn mind was made to change. Until he was forced to acknowledge her tenacity.
Eunny, with Ollas and a bulging market bag in tow, rejoined Anadae and Zhenya as they trooped back to where Calya and Ezzyn waited. A flurry of activity on the deck resulted in Anadae and Ezzyn moving on to discuss a report with the windrunner captain. As the weather shifted, bringing a biting wind and frigid rain, Calya was about to suggest moving somewhere warmer when Lowe appeared on the dock.
“Hey, he looks familiar.” Eunny nudged Calya’s shoulder. “Isn’t that the guy you had a staredown with outside my shop?”
“The very same, but we’ve come to… an understanding.” Understatement, but not necessarily untrue. “He’s the one Sentinel allowed on the trip.”
“Oh, really,” Eunny said in a gleeful tone. She mimed cupping her ear. “What’s that? Do I hear destiny calling?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Calya raised her chin in greeting as Lowe spotted them. “He’s coming along in a work capacity only.”
“I believe the kids would call this a slow burn, Caly.”
“I believe it’s called unrequited, Eunji.”
Ollas laughed at Eunny’s mock outrage at the use of her full name. Looping his arm through hers, he motioned toward the cargo loading area. “We’ll meet you by the hold, Zhen.” That said, he tugged Eunny toward the side entrance into the lower levels of the ship.
Calya rolled her eyes and turned to Zhenya. “Do you have to put up with her matchmaking nonsense all the time?”
Zhenya chuckled, though there was something melancholic in the sound. Shaking her head, she glanced around, noting the distance between Lowe and where they stood under the shelter. In a voice so quiet Calya had to lean closer to hear, Zhenya said, “I have a friend living in Desmond’s Landing. Froley. They run the inn, and their wife has a bakery attached. The whole thing’s kind of a general meeting place for the locals.”
“Sounds like a nice arrangement,” Calya said, a question in her tone.
“Froley is… they’re good people. A little, um, a little unconventional, but they do good work. They’re honorable.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Zhenya bit her lip. “Just so you’re not—not surprised when we get there.”
“I’m still not sure what I’m being warned of. I’d rather you were blunt than subtle. My feelings won’t be hurt, I promise.”
“Careful. That sounds like sentiment, Miss Helm.” Lowe stopped in front of the two women.
“You’re late, ranger,” Calya said. “Five more minutes and I’d have ordered we leave you behind.”
“Heartless.”
She smiled sweetly at him. “You flatter me.”
Zhenya’s eyes darted between them, lips pinching together to lessen her smile. “Maybe I should?—”
Wind joined the fray, a short flurry swirling around them before dying away. A trail of yellow sparks lingered over Lowe’s hands before dissipating in another gust of wind.
None of them spoke, but Zhenya immediately looked to Lowe, a question in her eyes.
“I don’t have any answers for you,” he said to her, his tone going soft. It had a note of gentleness Calya had never heard before. Of sympathy. “The choices you’ll have to make… they haven’t changed.”
Zhenya said nothing, her head bobbing in a small nod, more to herself than in answer to the Sentinel’s words.
