“Fewl, you’re the light of my soul. The beacon of hope in a demon’s world,” Pia exclaimed as she read through the notes.

Class had just ended, and she’d finally had a chance to read over his work. He’d written notes on the strategies of war, celestial arrays, the dangers of demonic poison, and the balance between the five elements and nature.

Conch had trailed out with their classmates, caught up in another conversation.

Fewl laughed softly at her words. Now that classes were over, his mood was relaxed.

“You always say that when I help,” he teased.

Pia’s eyes gratefully took in each note. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the theories or the practical applications. Writing about them from an academic perspective was her struggle.

“Stoneface never gives me leeway on my writing,” she said sourly.

Fewl let out a sigh as he tidied his desk.

“Don’t call him that,” he said, probably for the millionth time in his life.

When Pia didn’t reply, Fewl looked back at her. Though her eyes were on the book, there was a distant look in her eyes, and she twirled a braid around her fingers. Pia’s moods were always clear when she played with her braids. Angry Pia had her toss them over her shoulder. Worried Pia had her twirling them around her fingers.

Fewl’s eyes wandered from her fingers to her face. Seeing the bruising there made him angry all over again. Pia refused to tell them who harassed her. “Oh, it’s just a training accident” excuses had finally stopped at least. He and Conch had never believed those.

He didn’t ask her. Not about the bruise and not about her worry. Fewl felt a wry smile tug at his lips. Asking Pia anything would get no answer. Eventually she’d tell them, on her terms.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

With a nod, Pia rose and tucked the book into her inner robes and led the way out of the building.

Conch was sitting on a log near the path entrance, waiting for them. He was chewing on the end of a stalk of Sweetgrass, eyes distant.

“Survived your fans?” Pia teased, startling him from his daydreams.

He gave them a long-suffering sigh and stretched his arms wide.

“You both have no idea how exhausting it is to be so adored,” he said.

Leaning over, Pia plucked a twig from the ground. Holding it out before her, Pia bowed deeply in mock reverence.

“God of Humility and Dignity,” Pia called out solemnly, as if offering incense to the gods. “Hear my plea!”

Laughing, Conch swept a leg at her, but Fewl flicked a spray of wind yi at him, shoving his leg aside. Pia stood up laughing.

“Cheap shot,” Fewl said, shaking his robe sleeves out and giving Conch a flat look.

“Look at you two, taking sides against me. I’ll never overcome this betrayal,” Conch said with mock hurt.

Fewl strolled past not bothering with an answer. Conch gaped at him, still holding onto his fake hurt. Pia stuck her tongue out at Conch and followed Fewl.

“My heart!” Conch wailed from behind them.

Sharing a look, Fewl and Pia smirked. The pair continued nonchalantly down the path.

In moments, Conch trotted to catch up, smiling as if nothing had happened. The three continued their way down the path in amiable silence. Squirrels and birds scampered around the forest, filling the air with the lively sounds of the forest.

Near the end of the path, before Dwelling’s front gate was visible, the path split into two. There, Pia stopped.

“Shrine tonight?” Pia asked them.

“After the second watch,” Fewl agreed.

“I’ll bring food,” Conch said, as if he didn’t always.

“I’m off to train. Don’t miss me too much!” she said, then flew off down the right side of the path.

“I hate when she gets the last word like that,” Conch told Fewl, shaking his head.

“By the time you think of a reply, the following month has arrived,” Fewl said dryly.

Before Conch could say a word, Fewl leapt to the treetops, skimming across the limbs towards home. Left alone, Conch laughed good naturedly at Fewl’s sly humor all the way back home.