“I’m sorry,” Marion said, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “what did you just say?”

Tobia grimaced, staring down at his almost empty bowl of porridge as if it would magically whisper the right words to say. He was a bundle of nervous tells: chewed lips, tapped feet, raised shoulders. It all gave the feeling that he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just said, which didn’t beckon much trust in the point he was trying to make. 

Lux could recognize their own past uncertainty in him, back when even the thought of telling Marion about their theories was enough to send a wave of nausea crashing against their teeth. Confidence was something you built over time.

“My father… He thought ley lines were, err, manifestations,” Tobia said, more slowly this time, letting each word roll through his lips as if it pained him to part from them. He was avoiding Marion’s stare, but he snuck a tentative glance at Lux. 

“You said he believed they’re something akin to scars,” Lux finished for him, in what they hoped was an encouraging tone. “Is that right?”

Seemingly grateful, Tobia nodded. He looked down at the map they had spread over the table, tracing the ley lines depicted on it with the tip of his finger. “Yeah. More precisely, scars from the Old Times. Residual energy from past magical clashes.”

Lux didn’t blame Marion for the skeptic expression twisting her face. Since childhood, they’d been told to think of ley lines as scorch marks, inflicted onto the earth by the Apostate in her blind rebellion against the Mother. The Apostate, the avian woman who had been bestowed the sacred role of Herald, keeper of the summer fire. 

History said she’d managed to kill the Herald of Spring and the Herald of Autumn before the King could put an end to her furious, raging madness. The Mother, wounded beyond repair by her betrayal, had retired into a long, deep slumber, carrying magic with her and thus putting an end to the Old Times. 

That was the sort of drivel people were supposed to believe. When the winter winds shook their windows and chilled them to the bone, the Apostate was the one they were supposed to blame. When they had to let ley lines ravage their minds with visions of a past that didn’t belong to them, only to use what meager crumbs of magical power were left in the ground, the Apostate’s name was the one they were supposed to curse. 

“Why did your father think that?” Lux asked, voice cracking on the last word. They took a big gulp of milk; maybe concentrating on the food would help them hide the excitement sparking inside of them like a bonfire. At the very least, they could blame sleep deprivation for the lucid, wild light in their eyes. 

“Well, for starters,” Tobia said, blissfully unaware of Lux’s inner turmoil, “it would explain why every memory linked to a ley line is so, um, violent. Be it something big, like a full blown military clash, or just someone killing a wild deer with enchanted arrows, it’s always about conflict. It has to mean something.”

Lux hummed around the rim of their mug. Careful not to spill any of the milk, they scooted closer to the map as well. There was a huge, roughly star-shaped blot of ink in the center, where Whitewick stood. They’d always assumed it was a convergence of various ley lines, or maybe the originating point, but looking at it now made unease stir in their gut. 

“... Say, what’s the memory connected to this one?” they asked, pointing at the inky star.

Tobia looked at them as if they had just told him to jump off a cliff. Bewilderment was a cute look on him, far less unsettling than the naked earnestness from earlier. “That one’s way too powerful,” he said. “We’re forbidden from using magic in the city, for our own safety. People have died trying.”

Isn’t that convenient, thought the twisted, bitter voice inside of Lux. Their tongue burned with the need to say something, to claim they’d always known the King’s power was built on lies—lies and the blood of those too observant to be fooled. They didn’t say anything, though. They’d just met Tobia and his family, it wasn’t safe to show their hand too soon. 

Marion must have held the same hesitation inside of her, given how she was drilling a hole in their skull with a worried, unhappy stare. Genuine surprise flickered on her face when she realized Lux was acting in a sensible manner for once in their life, rather than rushing ahead without a care for the consequences. 

Just to spite her, Lux started chewing on a morsel of porridge with their mouth open. She made a retching noise at them.

“Why do you ask?” Tobia cocked his head to the side, peering at them. “You think the Whitewick ley line might hold a clue?” He had now finished his first helping of breakfast, as well as a second that Marion had forced on him after noticing how hungry he still was. Everything about him looked softer, easier to trick. 

“Just curious,” Lux said, breaking into a smile they weren’t sure reached their eyes. “I mean, it’s the biggest splotch on the map, after all. Something truly messed up must have happened there, if your father’s theory is correct.”

Mentioning his father, Lux had learned, was a sure-fire way to get Tobia incensed. They watched him straighten his back and jut out his chin in defiance, as if to dare anyone question the man’s life work. It was sweet, and it was useful, but Lux gritted their teeth against the guilt prickling their skin. They had no business feeling any sort of sympathy—or worse, kinship—for someone who got to grow up swaddled in the comfort of the capital. 

The rest of the morning passed by in a back and forth of questions. Tobia was curious about life outside the walls of Whitewick, which he’d never left, while Lux wanted to know more about what it was like to exist in the shadow of the King. They wanted to ask more about Tobia’s father and his research, but they forced themself to wait; there would be time for that later. They didn’t have to risk seeming too eager. Marion, who prided herself of being a polite host, made small talk with Vera as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened. 

“What a relaxed atmosphere,” Lux said airily, which earned them equal glares from Tobia and Marion both. Undaunted, they got up from their seat with a spring in their step, making a show of stretching and yawning. “Guess it’s time for me to go back,” they said. “It’s been lovely, but Daphne will have my head if I ‘impose’ any longer. I’ll bring the medicine later.”

“Auntie is just sensible,” Marion shot back as she fished out of a closet a few woolen blankets. She passed them to Vera, who draped one over Chiara’s shoulders. 

Once again, Lux felt a bittersweet tug toward the scene in front of them. They’d spent countless days at Marion’s place before, but it had just been the two of them, telling each other stories in the thick silence of the night to ward off each other’s loneliness. There wasn’t any room for them this time around. Or so they thought. 

Before they could reach for the door handle, Tobia hurried to their side. He had that same earnest expression that made Lux feel unsettled, with a dash of pink on the bridge of his nose. 

“Thank you for listening to me,” he said. He seemed to have more to get off his chest, so Lux waited numbly for him to find the words. After a few excruciating seconds, Tobia bent closer and whispered, “You have doubts too, right? About the things we’ve been told all this time, I mean. You would have laughed me off if you didn’t.”

“I…” Lux took a step back, pawing blindly at the door for the handle. They had assumed they had this fancy city brat all figured out, placed neatly on the palm of their hand with his earnest eyes and bewildered face. They had assumed they could keep anything from him with a little misdirection and a wave of their fingers.

Meanwhile Tobia had seen right through them, as if the things Lux kept close to their chest were nothing more than tissue paper.

“In a few days there’s going to be a festival in town,” they said, averting their gaze. “It’ll be the perfect occasion to sneak you inside without anyone noticing. We can head to the library and look for clues corroborating your father’s theory. He can’t have been the first person to realize something’s wrong.”

“... I see,” Tobia said, stumbling on the words as if he’d been stricken. “All right, then! It’s a plan!” The hurt in his voice, laced with genuine excitement, made Lux flinch, but they forced themself not to look up. 

“I should go now,” they said. “I’ll see you later. Get some rest.”

For a moment, it felt as if the weight of a promise they couldn’t keep had settled on their shoulders, but Lux had had enough for the day. They shrugged it off, focusing on anything but Tobia’s presence behind them. When they stepped out of the hut, the chill felt the slightest bit harsher.