“So… he’s not pouring water on himself anymore?” Rin leaned against the hearth, arms crossed.

It had been nearly a month since the attack on the Morvathi camp—almost three months since the start of the sifting season. The days stretched long in Spindle Hall, marked by quiet afternoon routines and the chaotic rhythm of nights as patrons drifted in and out.

Erith shook his head from the armchair, resting his chin on his hand, his gaze unfocused.

“He’s past that. I thought it’d take him months at best. Is he… always that fixated on things?”

Rin’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Maeric spent years molding himself into something the Captain would see as worthy of Vice Captain, despite the Captain never wanting to see that in him.”

He pushed off the hearth and began to pace in front of the fire. “If he sets his mind on something, he won’t stop until he’s done what he set out to do.”

Stopping short of a window, Rin eyed his reflection in the glass, dimly lit by the firelight flickering against the night. “How long did the water take you?” curiosity edged his voice.

“It was just part of growing up—but that was different since I’d already....” Erith hesitated.

Rin turned his attention toward him, eyebrows raised.

Erith shifted uneasily in the armchair. “When Thatch took me in, he… said I had already gone through the Balance,” Erith stammered, uncertainty threading through his words.

Rin’s expression was blank, until a question began taking shape in his mind.

“When did Thatch take you in?”

“I think… maybe I was five.” Erith’s voice was low, barely more than a whisper.

“Five?” Disbelief was etched in his tone. “You’re telling me you underwent the Balance—something people spend years training for only to be torn apart by it—when you were barely anything more than a baby?”

Erith reluctantly nodded.

“... Does Maeric know that?”

“Not exactly.”

Rin walked over to an armchair and sunk into it, rubbing his hands down his face before staring up at the ceiling.

After a moment, he looked back up at Erith.

"How do you know Maeric even has a fighting chance if your only experience with the Balance is someone telling you that you survived it?"

Erith's fingers curled slightly against the armrest. "I don't remember the Balance, but Thatch made it part of me. Everything he knew about it, he made sure I knew it—and I know Kaida. I know it well enough to know Moonsie and Rhymera are back from the estate."

Rin’s brow furrowed. He studied Erith, weighing his words.

Erith tilted his head toward the window. The pulse of energy brushed against his senses. “That gem of hers is really noisy—it’s getting closer.”

“And I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Erith continued, his voice thoughtful. “Maybe there’s a way to help guide Maeric. It feels like it’d make sense, but I’ve never had the chance to try it.”

An exasperated laugh escaped Rin. “What better time to test a theory than when Maeric puts his life on the line?” He shook his head.

“Speaking of which—about the estate.”

Erith slouched into the armchair. “Maeric’s already given me a poem about how he worries for me—I’ll be fine. I understand the risk I’m taking.”

“Have you considered the lives you might have to take?” Rin cut in, concern tinged in his voice.

Erith looked up at Rin, as if to say something—but the words wouldn’t come.

Rin exhaled. “If something doesn’t go as planned—if one of the diplomats refuses to talk, or worse, they shout and alert the entire estate…”

Erith was silent, lost in thought, struggling to shape an answer.

“I…”

His hands clenched slightly against the armrest. “Maeric doesn’t deserve to be hunted down.”

“Look—I know you want to do this. I know why. I’m not trying to stop you.” Rin’s voice softened.

“You want to protect Maeric, protect the people around you. You’ve been forced to make impossible choices. And there are more ahead.”

He gave a small, warm smile.

“But don’t lose yourself in them—and don’t take it all on alone.” Rin glanced toward the fire, his voice quieter but held firm. 

“My mum’s as cold a mother as you could imagine, but I saw the cracks in that stone face of hers when she asked you to do this. Even she knows what she’s asking is a burden.”

His gaze returned to Erith. “You’ve got people who want to protect you just as much as you want to protect them. Let them help where they can. It’s what we owe each other.”

A warm prickle crept up Erith's neck, his face reddening. "Thanks."

Rin smirked. “And when Maeric does get through the Balance–are you planning on throwing yourself at him then?”

Erith’s eyes widened. His face burned hotter as the words sank in. “I—” He stumbled, his mind scrambling for words. “That’s—I mean, I…” 

Erith sighed. “I haven’t really thought about what I’d even say to him.”

Rin gave an exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn't consider myself a master of the heart, but holding onto your feelings until after the Balance seems like quite the gamble.” He watched as Erith fell silent, clearly lost in thought.

After a moment, Rin gestured toward Erith. “How about—‘I care about you, and I think you care about me. Don’t die in the Balance, and afterward… we’ll figure out the rest.”

Erith ran a hand through his hair. “That’s… not really that bad of an idea, as much as I hate it.”

“...And Maeric?” Erith eyed Rin curiously.

Rin raised a brow. “Hm?”

Erith shifted, still a little flustered. “Is he a master of the heart?”

Rin let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re two incredibly capable fools.”

The sudden slam of the door downstairs echoed through the hall, followed by hurried footsteps up the stairs. Amun poked his head into the doorway, locking eyes with Erith.

“I’ve got your balconies all sorted out,” he said proudly. Amun walked into the room, striding into the room and leaning over the back of an empty armchair.

Rin started to ask, “So you were able to—”

“I could take up a life on the stage,” Amun cut in dramatically.

“There I was—lost, no clue where to find a chamber to relieve myself. So I tiptoed up the steps and I found myself in a hallway lined with paintings of Verael over the years. And then—pure brilliance. What if—”, he paused, looking back and forth between Rin and Erith.

“What if I had been so taken in by the city’s history, that I simply had to follow the paintings?”

Before Rin or Erith could respond, Rhymera entered the room, glancing at her Amun, holding back a grin.

“I took a quick peek into the rooms before any guards showed up.” Amun recounted enthusiastically. “From what I saw, the man’s room is the balcony closest to the garden shed. The woman’s is farthest down. The two in the middle seem to be empty guest rooms.”

Amun pushed off from the armchair, satisfied with himself. “Before anyone came back, I slipped back down to the dinner—like nothing happened.”

Rin, thoroughly amused at Amun’s storytelling, settled back in his chair, folding his arms. “So… you didn’t run into anyone? Didn’t have to talk to anyone?”

Amun looked slightly affronted. “Well—”

A smile broke through Rin’s composure, unable to keep a straight face. “Quite the performance, Moonsie. Being invisible is great. Maybe not so great for a life in theater.”

“Now Rin, dear,” Rhymera said softly, “don’t be too hard on the boy. Staying composed through a dinner under false pretenses is a performance of its own.”

Her tone turned more measured, recounting the night’s events. “I don’t believe any suspicions were raised. We’ll review what we’ve learned in more depth in the morning. One month will be enough time for this to slip the Morvath’s minds before we make our move.”

Rhymera’s eyes locked with Erith’s.

“My dear, make the most of this time to prepare yourself as best as you can.” 

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦