A year later, and her brother was getting better. 

It hadn’t been obvious at first. Abhipadma’s wheeze had softened when they'd finally left their hut and moved into more suitable lodgings but he had been skittish. Agitated, as if he'd been afraid their good fortune would be ripped away at any moment and everything they had built would come crashing down yet again. 

It was a series of little moments that the girl had failed to notice at first, but it'd all caught up to her one day when she'd heard him humming as he washed their laundry. It was soft and slightly off-tune, but to her, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. She'd wept enough tears for a lifetime that day. 

“Abhipadma, could you please fetch me the purple threads?” the girl called to her brother in the other room, her focus still affixed on the loom she sat at as she threaded a fresh spool through it. “The white one too please?”

“Your fingers are going to fall off if you keep going at that pace,” Abhipadma commented dryly as walked into the room, placing the requested materials on a nearby table already overflowing with sewing equipment. He pulled out a handkerchief to lightly dab away the sweat smearing his sister’s brow. “Please take a break. Let us have some tea together. There’s something I want to give you.”

“Why do you do this everyday? Do you not get bored? Come outside and play!”

“I have to get this order ready for Hema,” the girl said, a wistful smile playing at her lips at the memory running through her mind. Even as time marched on, some things refused to change. “Did you forget she was coming?”

The soldier who had saved the girl from falling victim to dehydration a year ago had changed their lives, the frankly outrageous amount of money she'd given for the saree being just the beginning. She kept returning to purchase pieces from the girl time and time again, and eventually began requesting specific designs and styles. Word had apparently spread across Palaedia about a mysterious seamstress who could spin wonders out of even the most mundane of fabrics, and with people now clamouring to buy pieces from this supposed genius, Hema had begun acting as an intermediary of sorts, being the only one privy to the girl's identity. The girl was grateful for this. The last thing she wanted was outsiders flooding their small home tucked away from the rages of the conflict. That would just be inviting all kinds of trouble.

“Forget? How could I?” Abhipadma was practically vibrating from excitement. His hand fell to the hunting knife attached to his belt. “She promised to show me how to use it properly today. I can hardly wait!” 

That made the girl finally pause. She gave her brother a worried look. At some point over the past year, Abhipadma had begged Hema to teach him how to fight. Now, whenever she visited, the Palaedian soldier would give him a lesson on combat for an hour or two. Inherently, the girl had no problem with this. With the world as fractured as it was, she could obviously see the benefit in learning how to defend oneself, but there was a gleam in Abhipadma’s eyes that made her fear that he wanted to start trouble, rather than protect himself from it. She had heard the rumours that a some of the clans had resorted to using child soldiers, and the last thing she wanted was for Abipadma to fall victim to something like that. 

“...Yes, well, I will not be able to finish her order if you keep trying to pry me away from my work,” the girl didn’t have the heart to voice her concerns, not with how happy her brother seemed. “Do not worry. I am working on the final piece. I will be done soon, I promise.” 

Abhipadma shot her a grin before he scampered out of the room. The girl turned back to the loom, grabbing spools that the ten-year-old had dropped off. Purple and white. Her mind was suddenly transported, to lavender eyes and ivory hair, to the cold warning from the murderer who had destroyed her family and peaceful days both. The girl wondered if her village was still occupied by Rom or if Palaedia had taken back the land in the time she had been away. Or perhaps Trimestus, Elura, Mayuran or even Orion, which had mostly stayed out of the war between the clans, had made a play for the area. It was anyone’s guess really.

There was a single sharp rap to the front door. The girl smiled as she heard Abhipadma bound over to the source of the noise. Putting the finishing touches on the outfit, the girl gathered all the pieces Hema had requested in her arms and made her way to the front of the house. 

Peace was a fragile thing. Once acquired, it was easy to lose, and once lost, it was hard to get back. Hema stood at the open doorway. She made no move to step into the house. Her face was as stoic as always, but there was strain in her gaze that made the girl’s heart skip. 

And then she said the words that would remind her once more…  

“I’m sorry.”

…that peace was a fragile thing.

Piyumi fidgeted nervously, her eyes steadfastly plastered on the view below. She and Hisa had had their conversation about Piyumi's past while sitting on the roof of her house, and although a few minutes had passed since the redhead finished her tale, Hisa had yet to say a word. There was a small part of Piyumi that wished that she would never say anything at all. How bad would it be if she lived in this little pocket of time for eternity? Yes, it was marred by uncertainty, like a knife precariously balanced upright on a finger, but it was still preferable to the inevitable fall. To a world where Hisa would abandon her here all alone on the rooftop, and she'd be left with nothing once again.

Yes, she wasn’t guilty of her father’s murder, but her criminal history wasn’t what Piyumi was concerned about. Rather, it was what that history represented. She had been a fucking gutter rat, left to fester in the trash by the very people who had brought her into this world. While her mother hadn’t wanted her. she could at least claim that the queen had never had the chance to get to know her. But her father had known her, and he'd still chosen to abandon her for much of her life. So what did that say about her? How could Palaedia ever accept someone like that as its ruler, affinity nonwithstanding?

Piyumi felt her pulse spike, but then Hisa finally spoke. “So, when you left last night, it had something to do with your father’s death, correct?” she said, brow furrowed in thought. “Are you trying to find the party responsible?” 

The knot in Piyumi’s chest unravelled, just a tad. “Well, I know that Morpheus killed him, so I want to track down the person who gave the order to do so. The gang’s leadership has changed since I left and even Mylene is in the dark as to who the current boss is. She did give me this, though…” 

The blue in Hisa’s eyes somehow became even icier as she took the envelope that Piyumi was holding out to her. “You are still in contact with Mylene after leaving Morpheus, Your Highness?” 

“Hardly,” Piyumi scoffed. “In fact the night I met you was the first time I had seen her in, like, seven years. A real family reunion, lemme tell you.” 

Hisa’s eyes lingered on Piyumi for a moment longer before they fell onto the envelope in her hands. Despite everything, Piyumi had to bite back a smile when the lieutenant blanched slightly at the incredibly savage way the envelope had been ripped open before pulling out the papers inside.

“And these would be?”

“Emails,” Piyumi said before the confusion twisting Hisa’s face prompted her to explain further. “They’re basically letters — correspondence between the chief police commissioner and Morpheus.”

Hisa scanned the documents and gasped. “These threaten the commissioner into securing a charge of murder against you! So that means…” 

“Bingo. I was set up for the whole thing. Well, I mean, duh, of course I knew that, but I didn’t know how. With the commissioner in Morpheus’ pocket, it's no wonder why I was convicted so easily.” 

“That does not explain how your sentence was overturned, though,” Hisa murmured thoughtfully, taking a look over the emails over again as if further investigation would present the answer. “How odd.” 

It was odd, but Piyumi didn’t have the courage to go down that train of thought. Her release had happened so quickly and without warning, a part of her was afraid to pull at that thread. As if doing so will bring something to light that would somehow land her back in prison all over again.

She was out, and that was enough. She would not look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“In any case, we can use these emails to force the commissioner into giving us a name,” Piyumi said. “At the very least, she could give us some clues into the identity of Morpheus’ mysterious new leader.” 

Piyumi reached for the documents in Hisa’s hand but fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrist. 

“I have one last question, Your Highness,” Hisa said. “What do you plan on doing if we find whoever it is you are searching for?” 

Piyumi arched an eyebrow. She thought that much would have been obvious. 

“Why, kill them, of course!”