October 15. Medith stirred, stiff as frost-bitten wood. Her bones felt unstrung, like beads spilled. A weight pressed her chest, pinning her breath.

She pushed on instinct and froze. Queen Lahiss lay across her, smiling like spring sunlight. Silk-slim arms wrapped her tight. More crucial—she seemed naked.

Fear pricked like cold rain. “What’s going on?”

She chased yesterday’s scraps, heart thudding like a drum. “I said goodbye to Haidra, then Milia dragged me dancing. At night, the Queen’s banquet... They poured me drink after drink... then...?” Her mind hit fog; the memory ended at Haidra and ten thousand toasts.

“Mm...” The Queen rustled and moved. Stillness had been mercy; the slightest shift sent Medith near screaming. Skin met skin; every motion jolted like lightning through wet branches.

“Mm... mm...” The Queen finally woke, sea-green eyes hazed like a dawn lake. She looked at Medith. Medith blurted, “Hi...”

Without warning, the Queen leaned in and stole a kiss, quick as a sparrow peck.

Panic climbed like a cold hand. Medith sprang off the bed, snatched the clothes, and threw them on at lightning speed.

“Leaving already?” The Queen hugged the pillow still warm from Medith, smiling like moonlight on water.

“Your Majesty, please forget last night. I know nothing. Don’t take it to heart.” Medith’s pale hands flew; she dressed and laced her boots in a blur.

The Queen only cuddled the pillow and giggled, silver-bell soft. “See you another day.”

Medith let out a brittle laugh, mind sparking like a shorted wire. She spun and rushed out.

“Heavens—what happened? What did I even do?”

She skulked from the Queen’s palace, heart fluttering like a startled bird, dodging familiar faces. Dawn was kind; she slipped home unharmed. A pale halo rose on the horizon. She changed into battle gear, then sat rigid on the bed, unmoving, until full daylight flooded in.

“Huh? Medith’s back?” Melia edged through the door, tiptoes light as a cat. Medith sat frozen, staring out the window like a stone in rain. Melia leaned closer. Medith jolted back a few steps, nearly falling off the bed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Medith saw Melia spooked. Melia shot back, “I should ask you. Weren’t you sleeping in the Queen’s room? Why’re you back at dawn, in Legion gear, sitting like a statue? You scared me.”

“You all knew I slept in the Queen’s room?!” Medith’s thoughts jammed like rusty gears. Melia frowned. “What’re you saying? You downed Haidra’s fine wine and collapsed on the floor. The Queen said take you to her room to rest. It’s close. We carried you. What’s wrong?”

“Haidra... the wine... blackout... the Queen...” Pieces clicked, and cold sweat slid like meltwater. “Was this her plot? She and Haidra set it up? It wasn’t me—the Queen forced—” Her throat tightened like a knot. She felt played, taken without a word—by an old witch, no less.

“Medith, you—”

“Don’t talk. Move out. We depart soon.” She walked out, face dark as storm clouds.

Melia watched her strange air, thoughts gathering like dusk.

On the road to the city gate, Medith met Sais, Phiby, Milia, and Iling. They wore Dusk Legion uniforms, buttoned tight like armor. Sais was the exception.

She’d tailored it again in secret. Her top hung half-buttoned, baring a fantasy mountainscape. The standard pants had become a white floral short skirt, barely covering the upper thighs. Her long jade legs looked even more alluring. Small scabbard-like ornaments hugged both arms, floral white; blink and you’d miss them.

She wore black heels, each step chiming like a bell. She looked devastating. Medith’s gaze froze. “Sais! What is wrong with you?” Rage flared like dry tinder. She marched up and pointed at that half-veiled mountain. “Look at you! What does this even look like? A skirt—really? And that short? You trying to kill me with anger?”

“Tch.” Sais flicked her head, proud as a swan. “You forced me into your dumb uniform. I wore it to humor you. Stop whining. Don’t think landing the Queen as your backing makes me scared of you.”

“What... Queen backing? What nonsense?” Medith felt weak, knees washing to water. “Whatever. I’m done. Do what you want.”

Milia and Iling bounced a foot high. “Me! Me! We want that too!”

“Want what? A punishment?” Medith needed somewhere to vent. They’d offered their heads. She seized it, scolding them hard, letting the steam roll out of her chest.

Tears welled, their voices small as kittens. “The Commander’s biased! Why can Sais dress like that and not us? We wanna look pretty too!”

“You—Sais, look at you. You’re tearing apart my unit’s rules, aren’t you?” Medith pointed. Sais shot a fox-eyed glance and crossed her arms. “Who cares about your rules? Don’t think because you’ve latched onto—”

“Stop, stop. Sis, do whatever you want, okay?” Medith refused to spar with the old witch.

Smack—Sais slapped down on her head, thunder on a drum, nearly knocking her flat.

“What the hell! Why? I didn’t even say anything!” Medith felt wretched, blindsided by the blow.

“I don’t care. Who told you to call me an old witch?” Sais’s words cut like a whip.

“Come on, be reasonable. That was the narrator. Blame the hack author, not me. How’s it my business?” Medith was speechless, hands thrown up like wilted leaves.

“Ah-hah, do wrong and babble instead of owning it? Don’t think you—”

“Alright, enough. No more. We’re at the gate.” Fear still coiled around her like a wet rope.