Chapter Sixty-Nine: Everybody Was Outside
20 Harvestwane, 427 F.C.
Free Territory of Floodline — Nevermorning, Crownless Mile
8:18 P.M.
Roman Maraux Duvall
Roman knew the night was about to turn stupid when he saw Sera wearing boots she could barely run in.
Not heels. Worse.
Black platform combat boots, silver clasps up the sides, little engraved seals hanging off the laces like somebody had turned summoning artifacts into jewelry. Her usual ancient robes were gone. Tonight she had on a sharp black jacket cut short over a high-neck violet top, layered shorts over opaque rune-pattern tights, silver chains at her waist, rings climbing one ear, and enough metal threaded through that ridiculous silver-white hair to make airport security declare war.
She caught him looking.
“Don't.”
Roman kept looking anyway.
“What?”
“You have that face.”
“What face?”
“The face where you're about to say something stupid because you don't know how to compliment somebody.”
“I compliment people.”
Xyra walked past him.
“No, you don't.”
Marcella passed on his other side.
“You once told me my hair looked expensive.”
“It did.”
“That was the entire compliment.”
“Was true.”
Elys laughed somewhere behind Mireya.
Roman looked around.
“Oh, so everybody on her side?”
Sera's smile sharpened.
“There are sides?”
“No. Don't start that shit.”
“Then we're not on one.”
She hooked two fingers through his sleeve and dragged him toward the entrance.
Roman let her.
That was the thing.
Nobody around him really asked anymore.
Not in the stiff way adults did.
They grabbed him.
Stole his hoodies.
Stole his fries.
Climbed into his bed when they wanted somewhere quiet.
Sent him twelve messages and then showed up anyway.
They had too much freedom, too much money, too many powers and nowhere near enough people willing to tell them no.
Floodline had made that worse.
Nevermorning had made it catastrophic.
The whole district was outside tonight.
Not just humans.
Fairies from Caelune flew between streetlamps carrying little glass cups with both hands. Pixies sat along a railing arguing over racing odds. A group of kobolds had taken over the wide stairs in front of an arcade and were rolling polished metal dice the size of bricks. Two kitsune girls worked the entrance to an illusion theater, changing the marquee with their tails every time somebody stopped reading it.
A kirin family crossed the avenue beneath floating lanterns, their horns catching blue light from advertisements.
A Cait Sith sat on top of a kiosk with one paw on the register.
Roman stopped.
“Why cat cashier?”
The woman behind the kiosk looked up from filling drinks.
“He's not.”
The Cait Sith slapped its paw down.
A glowing number appeared.
14.50
Roman stared.
“He charging.”
“He keeps adding tips.”
The cat looked at him.
“Boss.”
Roman immediately pointed.
“Don't tax me.”
“Fiss.”
“That's not tax.”
“Fiss.”
The woman behind the counter sighed.
“He's been doing this for six hours.”
Roman looked at the Cait Sith.
“Where money go?”
The cat slowly turned its head toward a little locked box.
NEIGHBORHOOD FISH FUND
Roman stared.
Then pulled out money.
Xyra grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
“What?”
“You are not donating to a cat's fish embezzlement scheme.”
“It says fund.”
“It wrote the sign.”
“Exactly. Organized.”
Marcella reached around Roman, dropped money in the box, and walked away.
Xyra looked betrayed.
“You're encouraging him.”
Marcella shrugged.
“He's cute.”
The Cait Sith bowed to her.
Roman:
“See? Professional.”
Xyra shoved him.
He laughed and caught her around the shoulders before she could get away.
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Roman.”
“Nope.”
Marcella saw them tangled together, walked backward in front of them and made an exaggerated gagging face.
Xyra flipped her off.
Marcella blew her a kiss.
Xyra caught it out of the air.
Pretended to throw it away.
Marcella looked offended.
Then Xyra tucked the imaginary kiss into her jacket pocket.
Marcella stopped.
Roman saw her ears turn red.
Got her.
He pointed.
“Ohhhhh.”
“Shut up.”
“Got your ass.”
“Roman.”
“You blushing.”
Marcella hit him with her purse.
Sera kept walking.
“Can we go before Roman turns fifteen in the street?”
The entire group went quiet.
Roman narrowed his eyes.
“No.”
Mireya kept walking like she hadn't heard.
That made it obvious she had.
Roman looked around.
“Don't.”
Nobody said anything.
“Y'all got something planned.”
Nothing.
Elys suddenly became deeply interested in a glowing fountain.
Xyra looked up at a billboard.
Marcella checked an empty wrist.
Roman pointed at all of them.
“See, now I know.”
Sera opened the amusement-park doors.
“You know nothing.”
A gigantic illusion above the gate woke up.
Roman's own face appeared in the sky.
26 DAYS
The entire street screamed.
Roman looked at Sera.
Sera ran.
“Oh, you bitch.”
Roman went after her.
---
Nevermorning — The Crooked Kingdom Amusement Spine
8:31 P.M.
The first ride had killed three test dummies.
That information was on the sign.
They had left it there as advertising.
THE DEAD LANE
NO ACTUAL DEATHS SINCE PUBLIC OPENING
CURRENT RECORD: 2:41
Roman pointed upward.
“We doing this.”
Mireya stopped.
“No.”
Ren's voice came from behind them.
“Yes.”
Roman turned.
Finally.
“Where the fuck you been?”
Prince Ren Veyr stood there wearing a black jacket over a shirt advertising his own game studio like a complete asshole.
“Working.”
“You never answer.”
“I answer useful messages.”
“I sent you fourteen.”
“Exactly.”
Roman grabbed him.
Not a handshake.
Arm around the neck.
Ren immediately started fighting his way out.
“Get off.”
“No.”
“You smell like bird.”
“That's Vesper.”
“I know.”
“Say sorry.”
“To the bird?”
“Yes.”
Vesper dropped from above them.
Near-black feathers.
Gold edges.
Seven tail plumes burning violet in the amusement lights.
Ren looked at her.
Then Roman.
Then Vesper.
“My apologies.”
Roman released him.
“Good.”
Ren fixed his jacket.
“You've gotten worse.”
“Country healthy.”
“That's unrelated.”
Mireya was already looking past them at the ride mechanism.
Ren noticed.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You're going to inspect it.”
“Obviously.”
“It's safe.”
“You built part of it.”
“Exactly.”
“That sentence does not reassure me.”
Elys leaned over Mireya's shoulder.
“Can it explode?”
“No.”
Ren thought.
“Not anymore.”
Mireya closed her eyes.
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Roman was already at the gate.
The employee took one look at the group coming toward him and quietly said something into his headset.
Roman heard it anyway.
“Management, they're here.”
Roman leaned over the counter.
“Who is they?”
The employee looked at him.
“You.”
“Oh.”
“And them.”
He pointed without pointing.
Fair.
The entire line had noticed.
Phones were out.
Broadcast familiars floated overhead.
A fairy sitting on somebody's shoulder whispered way too loudly:
“That's literally all of them.”
Roman looked.
She froze.
He smiled.
She hid behind the person's head.
Too late.
“Hey.”
The fairy slowly peeked out.
“Hi.”
“You ride?”
She shook her head violently.
“Why?”
“It flips gravity.”
“Exactly.”
Her friend shoved her forward.
“She's scared.”
“I'm not!”
Roman pointed at the ride.
“You come with us.”
Her eyes got huge.
“WHAT?”
The whole line started laughing.
Roman didn't care who she was.
That was part of the fun.
Floodline wasn't built like an imperial palace.
People could get close.
Sometimes too close.
Security stayed around somewhere, but Roman hated seeing them unless something actually happened.
He walked into normal stores.
Waited in normal lines when he felt like it.
Got cursed at.
Got asked for pictures.
Got challenged to races by twelve-year-olds.
It kept the country from turning into one giant room full of people nodding at him.
The fairy ended up in the row behind him.
Her name was Liri.
Roman learned that because she shouted it when the ride launched.
The Dead Lane went straight down.
Then sideways.
Then somehow beneath itself.
The first spatial sleeve swallowed the track.
Roman felt six different directions become equally valid.
“Oh, this shit fire.”
Xyra beside him shouted:
“YOU SAID THAT LAST TIME!”
“BECAUSE IT IS.”
Marcella was behind them with Sera.
Sera had somehow smuggled Mr. Buttons onto the ride.
The rabbit sat perfectly still between them.
The ride operator had protested.
Then Mr. Buttons looked at him.
The operator stopped protesting.
Roman still didn't know why people did that.
The track vanished.
For one heartbeat there was nothing underneath them.
No rail.
No city.
No gravity.
Just a black interval full of thin violet lines.
Roman's smile disappeared.
That was not part of the ride.
Mireya screamed from two rows back.
“REN!”
Ren screamed back:
“NOT ME!”
The track returned.
Everybody dropped ten feet at once.
Then the intended gravity field grabbed them and the ride continued.
Most passengers thought it was part of the attraction.
They cheered.
Roman looked backward.
Mireya was staring at the seat between Marcella and Sera.
Empty.
“Where rabbit?”
Sera looked down.
Mr. Buttons was gone.
Roman:
“Oh, hell no.”
Then something white appeared outside the train.
Running.
Mr. Buttons.
On nothing.
The rabbit sprinted beside the ride while the cars were doing nearly a hundred miles an hour.
No platform.
No field.
No spatial bridge Roman could feel.
Just a white rabbit running through open air.
Liri screamed louder than she had on the drop.
“IS THAT NORMAL?”
Roman:
“NO!”
Sera leaned toward the open side.
“Buttons!”
The rabbit looked at her.
Then accelerated.
Roman stared.
“He faster than ride?”
Ren:
“Apparently.”
Mr. Buttons disappeared ahead of them.
Three seconds later the train entered the final station.
The rabbit was already sitting beside the exit gate.
Waiting.
Roman climbed out.
Nobody moved for a second.
Then he looked at Sera.
Sera looked at the rabbit.
Mr. Buttons looked at nobody.
Roman pointed.
“Your shit.”
Sera picked him up.
“He gets bored.”
“That ain't boredom.”
Ren was already opening diagnostics on his slate.
Mireya took it from him.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because every time you investigate something impossible, you touch it.”
“How else do you investigate?”
“From farther away.”
Roman laughed.
Ren looked at him.
“You're the worst person to support her argument.”
“Exactly.”
The fairy from behind them stumbled off the ride.
She looked at Roman.
Then Mr. Buttons.
Then Roman again.
“Your country is fucked.”
Roman grinned.
“Welcome.”
---
Nevermorning — Graveyard Games, Midway District
9:04 P.M.
They lost Roman at the bumper arena.
Not accidentally.
He changed into Pixie Dragon form and cheated.
The game used kobold gravity carts.
Each cart had no wheels.
It stuck to whichever marked surface it touched.
Floor.
Wall.
Ceiling.
Didn't matter.
The arena was a cube.
A giant one.
The objective was to collect glowing markers and knock everybody else's cart into reset zones.
Roman didn't take a cart.
He flew.
The kobold running the game immediately screamed:
“THAT DOES NOT COUNT.”
Roman banked around a wall.
“Didn't say can't fly!”
“BECAUSE CUSTOMERS DON'T HAVE SIX WINGS.”
Vaelora looked at the attendant.
Then changed.
Not fully.
Enough.
Dark gold-black draconic wings opened behind her human shape.
The attendant's face died.
“No.”
Roman pointed at her.
“See?”
“No!”
Xyra was laughing too hard to drive straight.
Marcella was driving.
That was worse.
The two of them had teamed up.
Marcella handled speed.
Xyra leaned halfway out of the cart and used small bursts of awakened draconic strength to shove other carts off course.
They were terrifying.
Roman loved it.
Until they targeted him.
“Why me?”
Marcella:
“Points!”
Xyra:
“Personal!”
Their cart came up the wall.
Roman folded six feet sideways.
Marcella missed.
Xyra did not.
She launched out of the cart.
“XYRA—”
She grabbed Roman around the middle.
Both of them spun through the air.
Roman could have broken free easily.
He didn't.
They hit a padded reset field together.
The arena flashed.
PLAYER ELIMINATED
The kobold announcer nearly died laughing.
“THE BOSS IS OUT!”
The crowd outside the cube went insane.
Roman shifted human while still on the mat.
Xyra was lying across him.
She looked up.
Smug.
Roman stared at her.
“You cheated.”
“You flew.”
“Skill.”
“Then this was skill.”
Roman hooked one arm around her waist before she could get up.
“Then stay.”
Xyra's smile changed.
Just a little.
She settled back down.
“Fine.”
The game continued around them.
Neither moved.
Then Marcella drove directly into the reset field.
Her cart exploded into harmless blue light.
She climbed out.
Walked over.
Lay down on Roman's other side.
Roman looked at her.
“You killed yourself.”
“I was bored.”
“You were winning.”
“Xyra left.”
Xyra reached over Roman and tapped Marcella on the forehead.
Marcella bit her finger.
Xyra yanked it back.
“Bitch.”
Marcella grinned.
Above them, Sera flew past in a cart being pulled by Velvet's projected head.
The kobold announcer was screaming about rules.
Mireya and Elys had stopped playing entirely.
Roman saw them through the transparent wall.
Mireya had some headset on.
Elys had one side of it pressed against her own ear.
They were both looking at whatever Mireya was showing her.
Elys said something.
Mireya smiled.
Not the little polite one.
Actual smile.
Roman noticed.
Then Marcella slapped his chest.
“Stop spying.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Xyra followed his eyes.
Saw Mireya and Elys.
“Leave them.”
“I ain't doing nothing.”
“You make faces.”
“Everybody keep saying that shit.”
Marcella:
“Because your face is loud.”
Roman grabbed her hood and pulled it over her head.
She immediately started fighting him.
Good.
---
Nevermorning — Blackglass Food Court
9:52 P.M.
Floodline had managed to build an underground food court with a waterfall running upward.
Nobody knew whose idea that was.
Roman hoped they got a raise.
They took over three tables.
Not intentionally.
People kept joining.
Ren sat down first with an entire tray of fried riverfish.
Céleste stole one before he even removed his coat.
He stared.
She ate it.
No apology.
Nyxara sat beside her and took another.
Ren looked at Roman.
“Your relationships are ruining my dinner.”
Roman:
“They ain't mine.”
Nyxara looked over.
Roman immediately corrected.
“I mean they are, but y'all got hands.”
Céleste:
“Correct.”
Ren moved the tray.
Céleste's tail stretched across his lap and stole another piece.
Ren stared at the tail.
Then her.
“How?”
Céleste smiled.
Across the table, Mireya and Elys were sharing one bowl despite there being twelve clean bowls available.
Roman didn't comment.
Learning.
Sera sat on the table instead of a chair.
The employee had asked her to get down.
Then Mr. Buttons slowly turned toward him.
The employee had gone back to work.
Roman was beginning to believe the rabbit had an ability called Fuck That Guy Specifically.
A waitress came over.
Seventeen, maybe eighteen.
Rabbit ears.
Not costume.
She set down Roman's drink.
Then stared.
Not at him.
At the whole table.
“Can I ask something?”
Roman:
“Depends.”
“Do y'all ever go home?”
Silence.
Ren:
“No.”
She laughed.
“No, seriously. I work three nights a week. Every time I'm here, at least one of you is somewhere in this district.”
Roman looked around.
Fair.
The waitress continued.
“Last week Lady Drakov was racing kobolds.”
Xyra:
“I won.”
“Barely.”
Xyra looked offended.
The waitress pointed toward Marcella.
“You were at the underground beach.”
Marcella:
“Maybe.”
“You got kicked out of the wave tank.”
“I was framed.”
“You rode a maintenance creature.”
“It liked me.”
Roman laughed.
The waitress pointed toward Mireya.
“You spent six hours in the game café.”
Mireya:
“Research.”
Elys:
“She lost.”
Mireya looked at her.
Elys quietly drank from their shared bowl.
The waitress finally looked at Roman.
“And you stole my brother's bike.”
Roman stopped.
“Who your brother?”
“Kei.”
“Oh.”
The table exploded.
Roman leaned back.
“I gave it back.”
“You returned it with dragon claw marks.”
“Upgrade.”
She was laughing now.
“Everybody in my building still talks about it.”
Roman shrugged.
“Tell him bring better bike.”
The waitress shook her head.
“Y'all are fucking terrible.”
Sera:
“Thank you.”
She walked away.
Nobody at the table was offended.
That was Floodline.
People talked to them like people.
Too many countries would've turned a group like this into ceremonial furniture.
Floodline let a waitress roast them between drink refills.
Roman liked that better.
His slate buzzed.
He checked it.
A war feed.
Not a call.
Karsovan armor was pushing the northern rail belt again.
One of Floodline's artificial infantry companies had lost two transport frames.
Adult demonkin contractors had already moved to reinforce.
A new airborne formation launched from the western airfield.
Roman looked up.
Three seconds later the ceiling display above Blackglass switched from entertainment advertisements to emergency airspace notice.
Then the sound came.
Deep.
Fast.
The whole food court vibrated as something passed far overhead.
People looked up.
Nobody ran.
A child at the next table pointed.
“Mom, fighters!”
His mother barely glanced up from her noodles.
“Eat.”
Another formation followed.
Floodline's new aircraft didn't look like Columbian machines.
Too compact.
Too ugly.
Designed around mixed propulsion.
Physical turbines for ordinary flight.
Mana-drive for burst acceleration.
Short spatial-slip assistance for evasion, not long travel.
Rook engineers had learned quickly after the first Avarran attacks.
The war had taught everybody quicker.
Roman watched one public screen.
A headline scrolled.
NORTH RAIL COUNTERATTACK — CIVILIAN EVACUATION COMPLETE
Good.
A second line:
NO STUDENT COMBAT DEPLOYMENT
Better.
Cassian sent him a message before Roman could ask.
I'm not there. Stop checking.
Roman replied:
Wasn't.
Three dots.
Liar.
Roman smiled.
Then the screen went back to a music video.
The kid next door kept eating.
That was life now.
War overhead.
Fries still hot.
---
20 Harvestwane, 427 F.C.
Nevermorning — Worldscript House
10:37 P.M.
Prince Ren Veyr
Ren had built a game specifically to humiliate Roman.
This was not the official development objective.
Officially, DEAD CITY 9 was a cooperative immersive horror-action prototype using limited shared sensory projection, adaptive enemy intelligence and environment rewriting.
Unofficially:
Roman hated things touching his ankles in the dark.
Ren had remembered.
The entire private test room was black.
Roman stood in the center wearing a neural-dreamglass crown.
“Why I can't see?”
Ren's voice came through the dark.
“Horror.”
“Turn lights on.”
“No.”
“Game trash.”
“You haven't played.”
“Already trash.”
Ren smiled behind the control booth glass.
Mireya sat at the adjacent console.
Céleste was supposed to be helping.
She was watching Roman.
Elys had somehow acquired Mireya's jacket and was sitting on the floor in it.
Ren did not ask.
He had learned.
Inside the simulation, Roman's environment loaded.
Abandoned Floodline.
No people.
No music.
No lights.
Just wet concrete.
Roman immediately frowned.
That was the first success.
Ren activated proximity spawning.
Something moved behind Roman.
He turned.
Nothing.
Another sound.
Closer.
Roman:
“Ren.”
Ren muted himself.
The creature crawled under a broken car.
Only six fingers visible.
Roman stepped backward.
A tiny hand touched his ankle.
Roman folded instinctively.
The simulation rejected the real spatial movement and dumped him back into the center.
He shouted:
“YO WHAT THE FUCK.”
Everybody in the booth broke.
Céleste doubled over.
Mireya actually laughed.
Elys fell sideways.
Ren hit the desk.
Roman ripped the headset off.
“Who made ankle thing?”
Ren couldn't breathe.
“Fuck you.”
Roman came toward the booth.
Ren locked the door.
Roman stared through the glass.
“Open.”
“No.”
“Open.”
“No.”
Roman's six wings came out.
Mireya stopped laughing.
“Ren.”
Ren looked at her.
She pointed.
Roman's lower wings had begun bending space.
“Open.”
Ren opened.
Roman came through.
Ren immediately ran.
The private hallway became a sprint.
Roman chased him through Worldscript House.
Past developers.
Past animators.
Past a voice actor recording monster screams.
Past two executives who flattened themselves against a wall.
Ren vaulted a couch.
Roman folded over it.
“CHEATER.”
“You built ankle monster!”
“It was art!”
Roman caught him by the jacket.
They hit the carpet.
Ren rolled.
Roman got him in a headlock.
A developer looked over.
“Should we—”
Mireya walked past.
“No.”
Céleste followed.
“They do this.”
Roman:
“Tell him game ass.”
Ren:
“Highest retention prototype this quarter.”
“You scared me with feet.”
“Exactly.”
Roman tightened the hold.
Ren slapped the floor.
“Okay, okay.”
Roman released him.
Ren sat up.
Roman sat beside him.
Both breathing hard.
Then Cassian's face appeared on a wall screen.
Remote connection.
He looked exhausted.
Delphine was behind him wearing Cassian's shirt.
Not ceremonial anything.
Just too-large black shirt.
Rhea was on the couch with her feet in Delphine's lap.
Tamsin walked behind them carrying a bowl.
Cassian looked at Roman and Ren sitting on the floor.
“What happened?”
Roman:
“He cheated.”
Ren:
“He lost.”
Cassian nodded.
“Normal.”
Delphine leaned closer to the camera.
“Is that the horror game?”
Roman:
“No.”
Ren:
“Yes.”
“I want in.”
Cassian looked at her.
“You have a meeting at eight.”
“So?”
“It's eleven.”
“Exactly.”
Rhea looked toward the screen.
“Four-player?”
Ren:
“Eight.”
Tamsin stopped walking.
That was all it took.
Ten minutes later they were in.
Nobody mentioned the marriage.
They didn't need to.
Cassian's ring flashed whenever his avatar raised a weapon.
Delphine kept forgetting hers existed and using that hand to punch things.
Rhea kept protecting Delphine while claiming she wasn't.
Tamsin spent the first half of the game criticizing inventory weight.
Then became the best player.
Roman discovered this halfway through a monster rush.
“TAMSIN?”
“Stop yelling.”
“You got thirty kills.”
“Thirty-two.”
Cassian:
“She always does this.”
Delphine:
“You sound proud.”
Cassian:
“I am.”
Tamsin missed one shot.
Probably because everybody heard him.
Nobody commented.
Ren absolutely saved the clip.
---
21 Harvestwane, 427 F.C.
Free Territory of Floodline — Deep Orchard Seven
1:26 A.M.
Roman
The afterparty ended up on a farm.
Nobody planned that either.
Worldscript House had a service lift.
The service lift connected to a freight spine.
The freight spine connected to Deep Orchard Seven.
Someone said they wanted peaches.
That was apparently enough reason for twelve teenagers with access to more money than judgment to end up half a mile beneath Floodline stealing fruit from government agriculture.
Deep Orchard Seven looked nothing like underground.
That was the whole point.
Warm artificial sunlight crossed a sky-blue ceiling so high Roman couldn't see the support structure.
Rows of peach trees disappeared across rolling terraces.
Water moved through narrow channels.
Tiny maintenance automatons rolled between roots.
Kirin workers had finished their shift hours ago, but their cultivation marks still glowed along irrigation stones.
Fairies slept in little hanging structures near the upper branches.
Not pet houses.
Homes.
Some had moved into the orchards because they liked the warmth.
One woke as Roman passed.
Tiny face appeared through a round door.
“You're loud.”
Roman whispered:
“My bad.”
She squinted.
“Boss?”
“Yeah.”
“Be quiet.”
“Okay.”
The door closed.
Roman looked at everybody.
“Y'all heard her.”
Marcella whispered:
“You were the loudest.”
“Shut up.”
They walked deeper.
No cameras.
No crowd.
No employees asking for pictures.
Just dirt under expensive shoes.
Sera took hers off.
Held them by the straps.
Roman looked.
“Told you boots stupid.”
“They're beautiful.”
“You can't walk farm.”
“I am walking.”
Barefoot.
“That's cheating.”
“Skill.”
Of course.
Xyra picked a peach.
Marcella immediately bit it while it was still in Xyra's hand.
Xyra stared.
Marcella chewed.
Xyra took a bite from the opposite side.
Roman looked away before they accused him of staring again.
Near another tree, Elys had fallen asleep against Mireya's shoulder.
Standing.
Roman had no idea how.
Mireya did not wake her.
She just stood there scrolling with one hand while Elys leaned against her.
Nyxara and Céleste had disappeared somewhere between rows four and five.
Nobody went looking.
Vaelora was trying to convince Astraea that stealing peaches did not count as theft if Roman technically controlled the territory.
Astraea was not buying it.
Roman was.
“Exactly.”
Astraea looked at him.
“No.”
“See, dragon understand.”
Vaelora smiled.
“Always.”
Ren threw a peach at Roman.
Roman caught it without looking.
“Why?”
“Wanted to see if you could.”
“You could've asked.”
“Less fun.”
Roman bit into it.
Juice ran over his thumb.
Good.
Real good.
He sat in the grass.
One by one, everybody eventually ended up somewhere nearby.
Not arranged.
Nobody made a circle.
Nobody announced a moment.
They just ran out of reasons to keep standing.
Roman lay back.
Artificial sky overhead.
A military transport rumbled somewhere through a sealed freight level beyond the orchard wall.
Far above that, Nevermorning was still going.
Farther above, Rookspire floated over the city.
Probably launching something.
Probably building something.
Probably violating another definition of school.
Roman heard Sera sit beside him.
Didn't look.
Something small landed on his stomach.
He looked down.
Mr. Buttons.
Roman stared.
“No.”
The rabbit settled.
Sera:
“He likes you.”
“Bullshit.”
Mr. Buttons's shadow stretched sideways.
Wrong direction.
Roman saw it.
Sera saw him see it.
Neither said anything.
A second shadow crossed it.
Too large to belong to the rabbit.
Then both shadows went normal.
Roman slowly looked at Sera.
She was staring at the artificial sky.
“Your bunny fucked up.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“Yes.”
Roman looked back at Mr. Buttons.
The rabbit closed its eyes.
Like nothing happened.
From farther down the row, Ren shouted:
“WHO HAS MY JACKET?”
Elys, half asleep against Mireya, raised one hand.
She was wearing Mireya's.
Marcella raised another.
She was wearing Ren's.
Ren stared.
“How?”
Marcella:
“Found it.”
“You were never near me.”
“Skill.”
Sera started laughing.
Roman couldn't help it.
Then everybody did.
Too loud.
The fairy door in the tree above them opened again.
“SHUT UP.”
Twelve powerful teenagers.
Two princesses from three different countries arguing over a jacket.
A Crusnik sovereign lying in the grass with a possibly evil rabbit on his stomach.
A demon prince trying to recover stolen clothing.
A war happening somewhere beyond the walls.
The fairy did not care.
Roman whispered:
“My bad.”
Again.
The little door slammed shut.
Nobody moved for about ten seconds.
Then Marcella whispered:
“Baby boss.”
Roman sat straight up.
“Don't start.”
Xyra covered her mouth.
Sera looked away.
Ren immediately understood.
“Oh.”
“No.”
“Twenty-six days.”
“I will kill everybody here.”
Marcella whispered louder:
“Twenty-six days until Roman isn't the baby.”
Roman threw the peach pit.
Marcella ducked.
It hit Ren.
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
Everything collapsed again.
Running.
Laughing.
Xyra chasing Marcella.
Ren chasing Roman.
Sera barefoot through the orchard with her boots in one hand.
Mireya trying not to wake Elys while getting out of the way.
The fairy above them screaming threats from her window.
A maintenance automaton activating because someone stepped into irrigation.
Water blasted Roman directly in the face.
He stopped.
Everyone stopped.
Roman wiped water from his eyes.
Looked at the machine.
The machine displayed:
PLEASE REMAIN ON DESIGNATED PATHS.
Roman stared.
Then smiled.
Ren saw it.
“No.”
Roman grabbed the irrigation pipe.
Everybody ran.
Deep Orchard Seven became a war zone for the next nine minutes.
The actual war could wait.
At least until somebody dried off.
---
21 Harvestwane, 427 F.C.
Deep Orchard Seven — Terrace Twelve
2:03 A.M.
Sera vel Miralune
Roman had fallen asleep first.
Not intentionally.
He was still wet.
One arm beneath his head.
Vesper curled beside him.
Mr. Buttons sitting three feet away.
Everyone else was quieter now.
Marcella had stolen Xyra's jacket.
Xyra was using Roman's coat instead.
Mireya was asleep against the same tree as Elys.
Ren was still awake because Ren considered sleep an engineering limitation.
Sera sat above them on a low branch with her boots hanging from two fingers.
Nobody had gone home.
Good.
Mr. Buttons turned his head.
Sera looked down.
The rabbit stood.
Walked toward Roman.
Stopped beside his hand.
Roman's fingers twitched in his sleep.
The rabbit's shadow opened.
Not stretched.
Opened.
A thin black seam appeared inside it.
Sera's smile disappeared.
Mr. Buttons looked at her.
She said nothing.
Neither did he.
Something moved on the other side.
Far away.
Too large.
Then Roman rolled over in his sleep and dropped one hand directly across the rabbit's back.
The seam snapped shut.
Mr. Buttons froze beneath his arm.
Roman mumbled something incomprehensible.
Pulled the rabbit closer.
Sera stared.
Mr. Buttons stared back at her with one visible black eye.
For perhaps the first time in a very long while—
he looked offended.
Sera covered her mouth so she wouldn't laugh and wake everybody.
The rabbit remained trapped.
Roman kept sleeping.
Sera leaned back against the tree.
Whatever Mr. Buttons had been trying to do could wait.
Apparently even eldritch bullshit had to survive Roman cuddling it by accident.
That seemed appropriate for Floodline.
She looked across the orchard.
Then at Roman.
Then at the others.
Nobody here knew nearly enough about anybody else.
Perfect.
That was usually when things became interesting.