Fabrian sat on the bench, staring upward while zoning out. The weather was nice today. Within her peripheral vision, she could see the desert mountains and the border to the next country over. Her university sat on the border between two countries, and the desert cradled both beneath the bright yellow sun. On the side of the mountain facing the university, the purple and teal dyed sand glittered prettily in the daylight. From the far sides of the university, she could hear the sounds of traffic on the highway. She stretched out languidly like a cat, feeling her thigh and calf muscles relax. 

She had two hours until her next class—and she wondered if she should go to the gym. After her evening class, she'd have to go to work (another unpleasurable shift at a local restaurant until midnight).

“Bri!” someone called out. A young man with a buzzcut and dark skin approached, waving excitedly. He wore his fatigue bottoms and a white tank with his Army jacket slung over his shoulder. 

Fabrian smiled widely. “Mando! Aren't you out of uniform?”

“What would you know, you're just a civilian,” He teased, reaching out and grasping her hand. 

She clasped his hand tightly and let him haul her to stand. “Yeah, okay, mister high and mighty.”

He laughed. “So what're you up to?”

“I think Imma head to the gym,” Fabrian said. “I've got time before my next lecture.”

Mando gave her a calculating look. “You wanna join me for PT?”

“Me? Join the Army kids’ training? Yeah. Sure.” She shoved him with a laugh, walking toward the rec center. “Also, I thought I was just a ‘civilian’.”

“We let other campus kids join on Wednesdays. It helps show off how cool the program is!” Mando jogged after her. 

“I’ll pass.”

“Aww, c'mon, don't be like that Fabrian. We do thirty minutes of jogging on the track, and then we do strength training for an hour. You'll have plenty of time! We also give out prizes for people who can do the max amount of chin-ups.”

Fabrian paused, her hand gripping her backpack strap. “What’s the prize and the max?”

“Max is fifteen,” Mando smiled knowingly, as if he knew he had her. “And the prize is a free lunch.”

“Tempting,” Fabrian admitted and considered the prize. If she had a free lunch, she wouldn't have to worry about finding something quick and affordable before she mad-dashed to work. 

“Anyone who does the fifteen gets free lunch, or is it like a lotto?” Fabrian rotated her shoulders.

“Anyone gets it if they can manage. I know your PR is seventeen Bri.”

“I don't know…”

“Ugh, c'mon Bri, just come with. You got anything else better to do?”

Fabrian stopped suddenly as her feet came to a heavy halt. The world tilted around her until she was upside down. It was just her, Mando, and his outstretched hand. Deja vu floated in her skull, lapping against the sides of her temple like an ocean.

“What?” She whispered.

Mando offered his hand again; he was older, crows feet at the corners of his eyes and laughter lines marking down the inside of his cheeks. This time he wore his blues.

“You have anything better to do?” He asked again, a little slower.

“Major Rosalez.” Her heart clenched in her chest. That's right. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him in person like this. The two of them had been sent to the same base when she... Had he made it out safely from the explosions?

Her hand twitched against the soft cotton touch of a bedsheet. 

“What are my orders?” She asked, almost knowing the answer.

Mando gave her a salute. “At ease. You're dismissed, lieutenant.”

And like a comet, a sun burst into the sky, dousing everything in burning light, and shredding her apart— 

Fabrian gasped awake with a  jolt before instantly regretting the quick movement. Her body burned, like it had been branded from the inside out, and she couldn't move her right arm or her left leg. It took a bit of maneuvering until she was able to force herself to sit up and rest her back against the bed frame. Sweat beaded along her brow and her chest heaved with deep breaths as the pain eventually ebbed away. 

There was a small window to her left, where dawnlight streamed in through fluttering rays, refracting between particles of dust. Just outside, Fabrian made out the tips of spires from building tops—a common architectural design in Natalez. Aside from the window, the room she was in was fairly simple. The bed she laid in was made of old faded oak, stained with age and scars in the wood. There was a chair and a lopsided coffee table in the corner closest to the door; someone had left their book on the tabletop.

Blinking to clear her eyes, Fabrian stared at her thin, bony fingers. This was the nameless queen's body. 

She was very, very far away from home. 

The door creaked open, and a man with blond hair and smiling amber eyes entered. In his hands was a tray, and on that tray a bowl of soup and a steaming mug. Seeing her awake, he choked out a surprised sound and set the food tray down on the coffee table as he rushed to her side.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Fabrian grunted.

“A what?”

“Nevermind.” She shifted her weight, wincing when a sharp pain flared up her side. “You're the guy who was attacked by those bandits.”

He offered a light smile before placing the back of his hand against her forehead. “You can call me Stella, if you’d like.”

“You?” Fabrian looked him up and down. “‘Stella’? That’s definitely…unique.”

“Does it not suit me?”

She took in his appearance, and shrugged. She couldn’t deny that he was pretty. His short-cropped hair, now clean, glittered like fine strands of gold; his amber eyes were warm and honeyed, no longer coldly analyzing a battle situation. There was even a bit of rouge smeared at the corner of his eyelids, accentuating the orange and red flecks in his gaze. In the sunlight, his copper skin glinted with ochre and red undertones. He had traded his gambeson  for a long, emerald tunic similar to Fabrian’s, and silver trousers. 

“Sure. If you’re a Stella, I suppose so,” she huffed.

“Thank you,” he chuckled. He observed her with a narrowed glance and a thin smile before backing to the coffee table, and sitting down in the unoccupied chair. “Your name, Fabrian, is also very unique. You don’t look like a Fabrian.”

Her gaze widened, and suddenly Fabrian felt as though she were dealing with a dangerous poker game. Something about his gaze, about this atmosphere, wasn’t right. Like he knew something she didn’t. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Prior to you dashing in like a knight in shining armor?” Stella asked with a content look. “You tell me.”

She clenched her fists. If it came down to an altercation, there’s no way she’d win in her current state. “Do I owe you money or something?”

Laughing, Stella waved his hand. “I suppose not. You just have a very recognizable face.”

Again, Fabrian didn’t like that. “Thanks, I bought it. Living with merchants has its perks.”

“You’re witty.” Stella leaned forward and propped his elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his palm. “I thought you were a quick soldier, but you’re also a sharp person.”

“You’re full of praise.”

“Well, you are my savior after all.”

“Anyone would’ve done the same if they had the means to.”

“I think you overestimate how much anyone would want to get involved with such affairs.” 

That caught Fabrian’s attention. She crossed her good arm over her chest and rested her hand along her bicep, trying to match his relaxed posture. “Speaking of, why did they attack you? Our caravan had been attacked by robbers a month ago, but no one had been killed.”

“Why indeed,” he murmured. “I have a hunch but your merchant friend, Master Netali, sent out scouts, Armon and your bossy friend, to investigate.”

“Cleri?”

“The very same.”

Fabrian laughed. “Yeah, bossy is a good way to describe them.”

Stella hummed his agreement. “I’m not sure what new discoveries have been made yet., I traveled back home to take my men to their families for their farewells. I only just returned this morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Fabrian said before processing what he said. “Wait. How long have you been gone?”

“Nine days,” he offered helpfully. “And before you ask, you’ve been out for the same amount of time.”

Fabrian sunk down into the bed. Nine days. I’ve been clocked out for almost two weeks. 

“You’re very lucky you know,” Stella continued. “Both a doctor and a magician were summoned to treat your wounds.”

“Great, make-believe medical bills,” Fabrian muttered bitterly. “I’m almost certain I don’t have enough to cover those.”

“You needn’t worry about any fees,” Stella said. “I covered the visits.”

“What?”

“You’re my savior after all. Were it not for you, I’d be dead. Paying for the healers was the least I could do.”

Fabrian would take the break where she could get it. “I feel like I’m in your debt, Stella.”

“Quite the contrary,” he smiled. “I owe you, Lady Fabrian.”

“No formalities. Just ‘Fabrian’ is more than okay.” She groaned, her ears heating up. Anyone calling her “miss”, let alone “lady” gave her the heebie-jeebies. She’d become way too used to “lieutenant” or “ma’am”. 

“Just Fabrian it is.” He nodded. “What is your plan once you’ve recovered?”

“I’m headed to Agan,” she eyed him suspiciously. “That’s where I’ll continue on to.”

Stella brightened considerably. “Agan? What a coincidence! I live in the capital, Rotia.”

“Yay,” Fabrian deadpanned, before sighing half-heartedly. “Any advice for a newcomer like me?”

“Don't look so enthusiastic,” the man laughed. “Agan is a fine place to settle. It sits between the Agalez River to the south and the foothills of the Duran Mountains to the north. While a desert region, the people there have set up a vast irrigation network, drawing water from the Agalez. The people themselves are hearty. They are artisans, farmers, soldiers, and scholars.”

There was a soft smile on his lips while he looked out the window. The warmth in his eyes melted like mottled honey and Fabrian found herself drawn into his fond gaze. He must love his home, she laughed softly, thinking about her parents.

“My parents were also farmers,” she told him, almost whispering to herself. “Their orchards also brought in irrigation water from canals that fed off from a great river. I know the type of people well; the salt of the earth.”

Stella gave her a surprise look, his brows raised high and his mouth agape slightly. He looked like he wanted to protest before he shook his head and hummed. “It sounds like a lovely place.”

“So does Agan,” Fabrian offered, a little irritated that he thought her recollection of home to be shocking. 

Reaching into his pockets, Stella pulled out a bright red ribbon embossed with glossy silver wings on the ends. He extended it to Fabrian, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it. Rolling the velvet between her fingers, she realized this was far nicer than any ribbons he’d had back home. 

“It’s not much, but I have a friend who owns a bookstore in the capital. It’s called Inkstone.” Stella explained, standing up. “If you ever find yourself in Rotia, take that ribbon and give it to the owner, Daphis. She’ll get you in contact with me.”

“Why would I want to be in contact with you?” Fabrian asked, quirking up her brow.

Stella laughed, staring at her with only the slightest of hurt glances. “You don’t pull your punches, do you? I’m afraid I owe you quite the life debt. Not to mention, it’s nice to have friends in new places—don’t you agree?”

Fabrian frowned. “Friends?”

“Yes,” Stella nodded, before gesturing to the food tray. “As such, I treat my friends well. Be sure to eat. Assured that you have woken and are well, I will take my leave. Be sure to ask after me if you reach Rotia, Fabrian.”

He left after that, closing the door behind him. The room felt oddly empty. His inflated ego and eloquent vernacular had taken up the negative space. Feeling her stomach protest in hunger, Fabrian decided to eat until she realized a problem. She glared at the coffee table by the door across the room from her. How did he expect her to get the food from all the way over there?