The medicinal garden sat by the outskirts of the village, close enough to the orange grove to leech off the ley line. The magic in the soil thrummed with a dull echo of its actual power, but it still managed to keep the plants alive. Safe from the frostbite. It did not keep Lux safe from squat, though, and they shivered as a chill ran down their body. 

“Did we have to get out at dawn?” they asked. Warm breath puffed up in front of them, as translucent as the layer of icy dew strewn over the herbs. To Lux, it looked almost like a wide, lacy shawl. 

“You’re the one who said we should go early,” Granny said. She was crouched in front of the sage with her back to Lux, but they could hear the amusement in her words just fine. “Last night you looked ready to burst out of your skin. You’d think the child was on her deathbed, rather than sick with a cold.”

“Granny!” Lux protested, at the same time as someone else said, “Really?”

Tobia was standing by the wooden fence that lined the garden. In the pale blue light of the dawn his eyes looked lucid, like they could pierce through Lux and pin them in place. “You were worried?” he asked. Then, as if remembering his manners, he turned to Granny. “Good day, Madame.”

“Good day to you, boy,” Granny replied with a mild smile. Now that she’d straightened back up, the light caught on the silver pendant around her neck. It had a simple design, just three rectangular strips of metal dangling from a chain, but the head of a wolf was engraved on the middle one. The royal insignia stating she was a member of the council in their village. She only bothered wearing the pendant when she was on her way to the temple for an assembly. 

Tobia’s eyes widened by a fraction when he saw it. All of sudden he looked like a scared, exhausted kid, no longer ethereal against the dawning sky. 

Lux still burned with curiosity about him, but they swallowed down all their questions about his past for a later time. Better not to rehash the fiasco from the previous day. Instead, they said, “It’s only normal to worry, city boy. In this weather, a cold can turn into pneumonia fast if you leave it unattended.”

Now Tobia looked like he was about to faint face-first in the snow. Before Lux could shove their foot in their mouth any further, Granny put a hand on their shoulder. 

“It’s a good thing that we’re not leaving it unattended,” she said, pointed. “Speaking of which, could you two strapping younglings pick some mint and a few stalks of rosemary? I need to drop off the sage and hurry to the temple.”

“Emergency meeting?” Lux asked, already trudging toward the bushes of rosemary.

“Some people are… concerned.” Granny’s voice curled in disdain around the last word. “But no one wants the town council to come sniffin’, so they’ll pipe down eventually. Aodh already said he’ll help me stare down the more stubborn subjects.”

“How noble,” Lux said sweetly, batting their eyelashes at Granny’s back as she walked away. She snorted, but she didn’t take the bait. Once they thought she couldn’t hear them anymore, they whirled toward Tobia. “Those two have been flirting for decades.”

Tobia blinked. “... Who?”

“Granny and Uncle Aodh, obviously,” Lux said. Then they realized Tobia had no idea of who Uncle Aodh was. “Anyway, let’s wrap it up here. I think my nose has gone numb. You done with the mint?”

In lieu of answering, Tobia held out the tufts of mint he’d picked with an uncertain expression on his face. “Will this be enough?

Lux compared the amount to the rosemary in their hand, then they shrugged. “I think so,” they said, squinting at the bright dot of the sun that was finally rising above the jagged line of the mountain ridge. They started making their way back home, but Tobia grabbed their wrist. 

“Wait,” he said, a little strained. His fingers slid down Lux’s hand when they turned toward him. Everything about him had a soft glow to it, like the hum of a ley line. Maybe that was what they’d felt earlier. The strange intensity of it.

After what felt to Lux like a condensed eternity, Tobia spoke again.

“My father was a researcher,” he said. “He specialized in ancient history, specifically the end of the Old Times and ley lines. He thought—well, he thought the truth behind this winter was hiding somewhere in plain sight, and that he would find it if he could just dig in the right spot. Then, one day…” His voice trailed off, drowned out by a sudden gust of wind. 

Lux couldn’t see the tapestry on the inside of Tobia’s cape—no one but him could—but in that moment they knew that, if they could, they would see the same crooked lines of thread etched into it as the ones etched into their own cape. Lines that told the story of someone they’d lost. They’d been marked, the both of them, in a startlingly similar way.

“My parents died in an avalanche when I was seven,” they said, careful. Every word was an orange blossom, tender and fragile in their hands, holding within itself the promise of a reward for their hard work. “I have Daphne and Granny now, and Marion of course, but, y’know. Grief’s not that easy.” After a beat they added, “Thanks. For telling me.”

Tobia nodded. He was finally looking at Lux. He’d let go of them, yet Lux still felt a thrill run down their spine when he talked. “My father discovered something big enough the King killed him for it,” Tobia said, strained with anger. “I don’t know what your deal is, or why you’re helping us, but I’m getting to the bottom of this. I’m going to do right by my family.”

“Careful now, city boy.” Lux grinned, taking a step closer. Excitement was bubbling up inside of them, tinged with the lingering taste of distrust. “People might think you’ve got seditious tendencies if you talk like that.”

Seemingly unruffled by their closeness, or their unabashed provocation, Tobia stared them down. Up close, there was an earnestness about him that didn’t feel as naive as Lux had thought at first. “You’re insufferable,” he said. 

“That I am,” Lux conceded with a dainty little bow, their cape fluttering behind them. They wondered if Tobia had caught a glimpse of their own colorful mass of threads, and what he’d make of it. Not that his eyes could ever get a hold of the memories etched into the fabric. “With all that out of the way, can we get back inside? I don’t know about you, but I really could go for some breakfast.”

For a moment, uncertainty marred Tobia’s earnest determination. It jolted the anxious knot inside of Lux, making their stomach lurch as if they were free falling. Had they said the wrong thing without noticing? Had Tobia expected more of whatever they’d shared just now? They were about to take the cowardly route and crack a joke about how Tobia had no need to worry about country bumpkin food, when the atmosphere between them shifted again. As if that uncertainty had been nothing but the flickering of exhausted embers, Tobia smiled down at them. 

“I suppose getting pneumonia wouldn’t do either of us any good,” he said. 

When he stepped away, Lux followed.