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I was surprised to see the city only lightly dusted with snow. Rhaya explained that this is because the wind moves differently within the valley, warming the air and stone through wind-forges—vent shafts that channel the gusts through the mountains.

The lower streets of Aerilos sprawl like silver veins, coursing through the heart of the mountain valley. The Myrios River carves down the middle like a glistening ribbon of ice, dividing Aerilos into two distinct sides: Stonebank and Silkbank.

On the western side of the Myrios, Stonebank is a symphony of hands and tools, of sweat and flame. Forges roar with the brilliance of molten metal, and tanneries unravel the raw, wild scent of cured leather, mingling with the acrid bite of oil-smoke.

And on the eastern edge, Silkbank’s streets ripple with the movement of vibrant markets. Stalls overflow with silks and textiles, while the air is saturated with the scents of saffron, clove, and candied citrus from spice vendors tucked into every corner.

Kato and Rhaya stroll beside me, their voices a constant stream of commentary. After stopping in at the stables to visit Klem and Rios, we’ve wandered for hours, strolling through wide, open plazas lined with shop fronts and narrow, twisting passages.

“Every bridge has a story, even though most of them are embellished,” Rhaya says as she points to the stone bridges spanning the icy river, uniting the two banks.

Kato jumps in. “Or completely made up. That far one with the twin arches? Rhaya swears it was built to honor some forbidden romance, but I’ve seen the carvings. Not a single harp or heartbreak in sight.”

“You’ve never looked properly,” Rhaya retorts.

I try to focus on their chatter, but my mind keeps drifting. Aerilos is staggering in its beauty, its scale, its impossible serenity. And the Harpaurai…they move with effortless freedom, gliding through the sky and the streets as if neither could hold them. Their wings catch the sunlight in bursts of color. Grays so pale they’re nearly silver. Browns so rich they shimmer gold in the light.

Many of them wear fine golden chains adorned with metallic feathers—some wrapped around their waists, others draped across their necks, and a few even intricately woven through their hair. The soft chime of the gilded feathers creates a serene, ever-present rhythm in the background.

As I watch their flight, my eyes drift to the palace, and I rub at my palm.

Lyxander’s absence lingers like a shadow in my periphery—just out of sight, yet impossible to fully ignore.

Kato waves a hand in front of my face, and I wrench my gaze away from the palace.

“Whatever storm’s brewing in your mind,” he says to me, “you should probably spit it out before you start brooding like Xan.”

Kato and Rhaya both watch me with expressions that range from curious to concerned. “I’m worried about Lyxander. That’s all.”

Kato hums low in his throat, then slants me a look. “Relax, little Harpaurai,” he says with a wink. “He’ll be fine. The queen shouldn’t keep him too much longer.”

“Why has she kept him there?”

The two share a loaded glance, then Rhaya draws in a long breath.

“The Diarchy isn’t handed down like you’re accustomed to,” Rhaya says. “The thrones are exchanged through challenges within the bloodline. Not often these days, but it’s how power shifts in Aerilos. You challenge the throne, you fight for it, you take it if you win.”

“It’s a tradition that ensures the most powerful people in the bloodlines are on the thrones,” Kato adds, “because the ones with the most power can protect the most people.”

My heart pounds as the meaning of their words sinks in. “So, when the queen asked Lyxander if he wished to challenge her, she meant for the throne?”

Kato nods. “Ever since his theïkós manifested, she’s known he is the only one with a serious chance of taking her crown. Though she doesn’t want to hand over her position anytime soon, she has spent years preparing him as her heir.”

“Why not Cynna or Silas?”

Rhaya scrunches her nose. “Silas couldn’t, not with how he splits his time between here and Kosmos. And both his and Cynna’s theïkós are the same as Queen Khione’s, but she has almost three centuries more experience wielding it.”

“Does he want to challenge her?”

Kato stretches his wings. “I’ll let Rhaya handle this one. I’m going to grab more meat. The cursed ice locker’s been eating it faster than we have.”

I bite back a smile as I watch him stride over to a line of storefronts. When I turn back to Rhaya, her expression is more serious.

“We’re not sure if it’s something he still wants. But before he left, he had his mind set on it.” Rhaya hesitates. Then, with a sigh, she says, “Do you remember what I told you about Kato’s sister? About Iphigenia’s Leap?”

I nod slowly.

“Aunt Lina tried to save her,” Rhaya continues. “She broke the law to do it. And the penalty for breaking that law is death.”