It had been a long time since Serai had gotten to hear the satisfying click of a pin locking into the socket of her right limb. Prosthetists were rare in Shenait, since most of the knowledge on how to make and work with them was contained in JaKen, a nation Shenait was currently at war with. Prosthetics were also highly expensive, so Serai would be lucky to have one even in peace times. Serai tried to stand, but the lack of recent practice had left her wobbly enough that Taras had to catch her before she fell forward. 

“Don’t push yourself,” Taras murmured and draped her arm over Serai’s shoulders. Serai stared at the rug. She had walked on a prosthetic leg before, so why was this one being so difficult? Was she going to have to send it away for another repair? Had the muscles in Serai’s thigh somehow degenerated so much—

“It’s been a couple months since you’ve used one of these, right?” Ferda broke Serai out of her thoughts as they slid their lean form under the princess’ free arm. Serai nodded, mouth a hard, embarrassed line. “Then of course you’re going to be out of practice. No more depressive spiral for you.” They pointed a finger at Serai and wiggled it, their lips pursed in mock sternness. “I can see you going down one, Ms. Princess.” A giggle snorted out of Serai, and Ferda grinned.

The three of them stepped forward together. Serai’s friends supported most of her weight and she gained more stability with each step. Ferda dropped off first, an easy transition, since they were shorter than Serai. Two steps later, Taras gently pulled away. Serai teetered a little at the loss, but she restored her balance quickly. By the time Serai reached the door to her quarters, all of her trepidation was gone. Her leg still felt a bit awkward, but that would disappear as Serai got used to the prosthetic.

“And there we fucking go!” Ferda raised the thumbs on each hand and struck a pose. While Serai wouldn’t be able to return the Woromiran gesture of approval in public, she did so now with a sunny smile. She was only among friends, after all.

The trio filed back out into the sitting room to find Malek leaning against the wall adjacent to the foyer. His eyes still scanned the room, as was his duty, but his face was twisted into a brooding grimace. Ferda returned Malek’s snarl, but quickly forgot about him when Serai pulled out a deck of cards. Taras brought some snacks from the kitchen and the three friends settled into their usual practice of ignoring the bodyguard. Fifi took turns climbing into each person’s lap with delicate paws as they played. She always stayed with Serai the longest, fluffy tail thumping gently against the princess’ leg.

Later in the evening, the friends dined on rosemary-roasted shebit and wine. The meat was far stringier than suited Serai’s palette, but she held her peace. Neither Ferda nor Taras seemed to mind the extra toughness. Shebit was expensive enough that commoners often ate it only on feast days. Ferda made a quip about having to bundle some of the royal alcohol away for later and Serai set an additional bottle in front of them, knowing they were only half joking. The friends drank and talked and laughed well into the evening. They were so caught up in their merriment that they didn’t hear the Moon Keep’s door open for uninvited guests.

“Well, isn’t this a cute little gathering.” A deep purr, dark and rich as honey, sucked the air from the room. Serai’s fingers tightened around her cards. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she slid her new leg beneath the table cloth. Schooling her face into a mask of apathy, Serai turned around as smoothly as she was able.

“Yes, and it’s a private one, Erol.” Serai’s brother, seven years her senior, stood in the doorway with a neutral smile that could belie a thousand intensions. The blade at his waist was slung low, ready for an easy draw, but the emerald inlaid clasp was still fastened. Though it seemed that Erol hadn’t specifically come to do Serai harm today, the option was still present. Behind him, Taras’ older brother, Bolin, stood at attention, green eyes scanning the space for threats. Bolin needn’t bother. The most dangerous thing in the entire Moon Keep was the person he protected.

“Oh, come now.” Erol strode into the lounge, passing Malek on his way toward the far wall. Behind him, Bolin moved to block the doorway with his bulky frame, cutting off the easiest means of escape. “It’s rather rude to turn away a guest from a party.” Serai raised an eyebrow at Malek, but he remained impassive. Of course, he would refuse to stand in the way of the one person Serai wanted removed. If Serai wished Erol to leave, she’d have to make him.

“It’s rather rich for a gate crasher to speak of politeness.” Serai crossed her arms and glared at Erol. “Why are you spoiling my evening?”

Erol ignored her, the black eyes they shared gliding around the room. “Is a visit from your favorite brother really so horrible?” Letting out a scoff, Serai nudged Taras’ arm under the table and tilted her head toward Bolin. Taras nodded and stood, beginning to sidle toward the royal bodyguard. If this meeting had an unfortunate ending, she would at least be able to waylay the second biggest threat in the room. Bolin’s craggy face softened as Taras made her way over.  He ran a hand through the caramel hair that all of the Abate siblings shared and shot Serai an exasperated look, but made no other moves. Though he likely knew that Serai was plotting something, he didn’t seem inclined to stop her. The situation was still workable.

Serai shifted to nudge Ferda, but her hand met empty air. Keeping Erol in her peripheral vision, Serai turned to find an empty seat. Maintaining her unconcerned mask, Serai rapidly took stock of the room. Whenever Ferda disappeared, something chaotic would inevitably occur. She let Fifi down in preparation.

Erol chuckled, cutting off Serai’s panicked search for her friend. “Considering your conduct toward your earlier guest, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at a bit of crassness from you.” He paused near the mantle and picked up a tiny glass figurine of Leigaba’s sacred animal, the honey bee. Her brother idly considered it before replacing the bauble in its exact previous position.

Serai furrowed her brow. Though Lord Kasani would undoubtedly make his displeasure known to anyone who would listen, he’d lost enough money for it to take him some time to gather the shreds of his pride and speak his indignation.

“So, you’re here in response to the old man’s whining?” Serai asked, her hand creeping toward the pin that secured the shoulder of her shawl. As sharp as it was beautiful, the pin had been Taras’ first courting gift to Serai. Her thumb rubbed against the glassy bulb of the pin’s blunt end, where Taras had captured a starry night within stained glass.

Maleck moved in the periphery of Serai’s vision. Erol likely learned of today’s events from an outside source. Serai had told Malek to leave her sight earlier. Had he been alone for long enough to report her actions to her brother.

“Perish the thought.” Erol snorted and moved towards the window to the courtyard. “While Lord Kasania cannot be ignored, a crown prince need not concern himself with minor inconveniences, especially while preparing for a council meeting.” Serai internally winced at the reminder of how far behind her own preparations for the meeting were. “Furthermore,” Erol continued, “given the man’s habits toward serving girls, I predict that he may have deserved this slight.” His eyes fixed on the window and narrowed for a moment. Then, he turned to Serai in a swish of viridian silks. “No,” his smile widened, “I’m here because a little blood-fly told me that my sweet sister has been using illegal foreign technology.”

Serai’s stomach knotted and she slid her leg a little further under the table. Erol tilted his head toward the window. “I can see from the Jakennian sun tablet bolted to the wall outside that this accusation is true.” Teeth flashed within his smile like a knife unsheathed as he unlocked the window and slid it open.

Serai forced her breathing back into a measured rhythm. “The Solar Panel on my wall has been an absolute blessing for my health.” As the princess talked, she began to work the pin from the fabric, covering its blunt end so that Erol wouldn’t see the stained-glass begin to glow, and keeping her fingers safe from the long, razor point. Though the pin didn’t have the mana conductivity of a blade, which Serai wasn’t allowed to carry anymore, it would be better than nothing if Erol decided to make good on previous threats.

“While I do have an internal magical reserve sufficient to power my chair, charging it at an outside source has allowed me to direct all of my energy towards more productive tasks.” Serai said. It also allowed Serai the full scope of her magic. “It’s not as if I’m trying to defy the natural order by fusing my flesh to a Battle-walker, or—"

The clasp of Erol’s blade clicked open.

Air rushed against Serai’s face. Water gathered at the tip of the crown prince’s blade, then roared into a torrent as he swung the sword through the window. He twisted his wrist in a minute adjustment and the water swerved to crash against the solar panel. A boom shook the air, followed by gentle clinks as twisted shards of metal rained down on the cobblestones outside. Serai’s knuckles went white around her pin.

 Erol’s onyx eyes never left Serai’s as he sheathed his blade, leaving the clasp open. “Some might say that you’re already defying the natural order with that metal leg of yours. Though humankind may struggle against their fates, the Gods get final say in our destinies. Living here was meant to remind you of that.” He took another step toward her, face a thin mask of contrition over steel. “When you lost your leg to the cliff-climber, the heavens decreed that you would not walk without aid again.” Erol’s gaze burned through the table to Serai’s prosthetic. Serai stopped breathing. He was always reminding her of her ‘place’, but Erol had never gone so far before.

“You can’t be seriously considering this.” Serai’s words trembled, and she prayed she hadn’t made a mistake. Begging soured Erol’s mood, but she didn’t have many options left. Losing her prosthetic would mean she couldn’t walk, couldn’t look people in the eye, couldn’t mount the Staircase of Law to even be heard at the next council meeting. Serai had to make him see the reality of her situation, make him show a bit of humanity. “My leg may be metal, but it’s still my leg.”

Erol shrugged and took another step forward. “You have perfectly sufficient mobility aids without that toy of yours. And you need to be punished for straying from the position the Gods have set for you.” Serai flinched, and Taras rushed forward to stand in front of her. Even Malek pushed off the wall with his hand on his scimitar. The prince ignored them both and stalked forward. “Your fate is to live your life with only one leg, and I’ve been ignoring your transgressions for far too long.” Serai’s hands shook as she reached for the core of her magic, deep in the pit of her stomach. “So,” Erol continued, “only one leg, you shall have.”

Serai’s essence core bloomed at her mental brush. Magic rushed forward as she hissed the litany of protection. A blue shell, cold as ice but much harder, spread around the princess in a dome. It probably wouldn’t withstand the full force of Erol’s strike, but the barrier gave Serai just enough courage to stand up and meet brother’s gaze. “Are you sure the Gods set the bounds of my position in life?”

“Don’t make me do something I hadn’t planned for.” Erol’s blade hissed as he drew it slowly, giving Serai time to back down and stick out her prosthetic for him to slash apart like cloth. She locked her muscles into absolute stillness, so her fear wouldn’t show. Letting out a slow breath, the prince shook his head. “I’d never wish you harm, little sister, but I cannot let this willfulness pass.”  

Erol’s sword glowed white hot and he slammed the flat of the blade into Serai’s shield. Cracks spiderwebbed across the icy surface. Serai stood frozen. When Erol broke the shield, he’d—

A shrill, mechanical whoop shattered the air. Erol snapped his head around to the entrance. “Is that our Rumbler?”

“Probably,” Bolin nodded. “The Woromiran is gone, so we should go attend to this, Sir.” Erol blinked, looked at the place where Ferda used to sit, then glared at the entrance again. He took a breath, and the earlier violent ripples faded back amused calm.

“You had better thank your friend for the reprieve they’ve granted you,” Erol nodded at Serai, easy smile back in place. “I’ll bid you adieu for now, but I will return to finish this conversation.” He stepped away and stormed toward the door. Bolin shifted out of Erol’s way, cast a last warning glance at Taras, then followed his master outside.