“Must you continue to associate with the riff-raff?” Han’s mother hissed as they walked back home.

Han clenched his jaw. “They’re not.”

His mother’s nostrils flared. “In the company of poor folk. Your father and I didn’t work hard for you to do this.”

Han flinched, a familiar sense of guilt at the pit of his stomach. He wanted to protest, but something stopped him.

His mother grunted. She herded him and his sister into their house, and closed the door heavily behind them, nevermind that Han was the only mage in the family and could take out the lock—or the wall.

His father, Lang, was there, and Han’s feet felt like lead.

“Father,” Han said heavily. “I hope you had a good trip.” His father had been gone on a business trip since the previous season—after Han had been accepted into Baashi, and before the classes had started.

“Indeed. I heard interesting things.”

Han stilled. “Yes?”

His father leaned forward. “Congratulations, Han, on making friends with Lord Quyen’s youngest son. His rise at Baashi Unviersity is as prolific as the eldest son. More so, if he conquers the second years tomorrow,” he said, voice smooth and his eyes glinting.

A bitter taste filled Han’s mouth. His friendship with Khai was as real as his friendship with Thon. He hadn’t done it gain favour. Han forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. “I believe he will.”

His father gave the driest of smiles. “Such confidence he has inspired in you. Be careful, however, my son. Fire mages can cast spells on your heart, and lordlings are even more dangerous.”

Han’s eyes dipped. “Yes, father,” he said dutifully.

“What about the fact that I found him with that single mother, Yang,” Han’s mother said sharply.

“Ah, that. There is no need for you to be in her company. There are many accomplished earth mages at Baashi.” His father picked up some papers, a clear dismissal.

His mother snorted.

Han gave them both respectful good-nights and quickly retreated to his room.

What if he had told them that Healer Khai was Quy? Would they congratulate him on that? Would his sister blanch at what she had said to Khai?

Han scowled and tugged one of his university books towards him. He was going to Baashi for a reason, and it wasn’t the same as his father’s goal. He was going to graduate, and make a living his way, and pay his parents back and escape them the moment his debt was fulfilled.

*

Khai left the house with all his belongings before the sun rose, before Quy awoke.

His feet didn’t want to move.

He could try to return to his original apartment block. But he didn’t want to see the landlady again. But there were more places in the city. His fingers skimmed over the bump in his pocket: coins, from his savings back in Karashu, and his earnings from Quy. It should be enough—as long as he wasn’t in the rich district where Quy’s house stood.

His head dropped, and he forced himself to step forward.

*

Han headed out of the house early and away from his family. A happiness burst in him when he spotted Khai at the front gates of Baashi, next to a tall unknown swordsman.

Han lifted his hand in greeting. “Quy!”

Khai turned, and smiled at him all wrong.

It wasn’t Khai.

Han froze.

The eyes were the same colour. The face felt the same.

But the movement was different. The fire was different.

Han suddenly realised how soft and comforting Khai’s flame had been. In contrast, this ‘Quy’ was sharp and flickering and flaring. Dangerous, like fire.

“Hi, Han,” ‘Quy’ said. “Ready for our lecture?”

Han forced a smile onto his face. “I am. And who is this?” he asked lightly, glancing at the swordsman.

“Ah,” ‘Quy’ smiled. “This is my butler, Shima. Don’t worry, he won’t fight. However, I believe that it would help you and the others relax a little more at Baashi. We’re here to learn, after all.”

Han nodded, pushing himself to stand next to ‘Quy’. “Ready for our first lecture of the day?”

‘Quy’’s eyes glinted, and Han felt a cold chill. He knew that Han knew...and they were going to both pretend otherwise.

*

Never had Han been so happy that Khai’s schedule had more lectures than Han. The moment he was able to, he rounded up Raah and Jin, away from ‘Quy’ and the swordsman-butler.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately.

Raah snorted. “Besides Quy acting more bratty today?”

“It’s not him.”

“What do you mean?” Jin said. “It’s definitely him!”

Han levelled him a look. “I would know. That Quy out there isn’t our Quy! Quy doesn’t act like that! He doesn’t move like that! And can’t you feel it? His magic is different.”

Raah’s lips thinned. “How is this possible? Lord Quyen has only two sons, and Lady Chau’s honour is without question. Quy has no cousins who look similar, and he could hardly have a secret twin. I would know.”

“I don’t know,” Han said. “They don’t look exactly the same! I don’t know what happened to the real Quy…”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Jin argued, but he stilled at Raah’s hand.

“You know Quy the best,” Raah admitted. “If it’s not him...we have to be careful. What’s to say it wasn’t our Quy who was the fake one? What if there are more than two lookalikes? We have to move carefully. Pretend that nothing has changed.” Raah frowned. “The duel with Ginzan has already been scheduled.”

Han frowned. “We’ll have to see how he fights. Either outcome...I don’t know which would be better for us.”

Jin groaned. “Why does it feel like we’re in the middle of a court drama?”

*

Quy stalked onto the training field. At the center, his opponent and the arbiter stood in wait.

“Looking feisty,” Ginzan said, shifting lightly on his feet.

Quy raised one unimpressed eyebrow, and shot the arbiter, the second year mage Song, a sharp a look.

Song nodded, took a step back, and announced the start of the duel.

Ginzan was immediately in the air and away from the ground.

Quy’s face remain passive, but inwardly, he smirked. Ginzan clearly expected him to use lava, like ‘Khai’ had. But Quy didn’t need to augment his flame with impure elements.

With a trace of finger in the air, Quy fashioned himself a polearm of fire. He grabbed the flame with one bare hand and slashed it out. Ginzan jumped back—and the flame slashed him across the front as fire flared out from the point far beyond the range of an ordinary polearm.

Ginzan’s expression tightened. Wind keened, sharp as knives and strong as a gale.

In the blink of an eye, Quy’s polearm slimmed and he threw it. Thin as it was, it sliced right through the wind. He didn’t wait for it to land, before launching another fire-spear, then another.

Ginzan’s attacks became narrow, concentrated blasts of air as solid as earth. But their narrowness made it easy for Quy to dodge.

Quy pushed his hands together, and called forth a blade of fire. And as he raised it above his head, the blade lengthened and thickened beyond ordinary proportions, yet always light as flame.

Heat dragged air, disrupting Ginzan’s control, breaking, ever so slightly, his connection with his element.

And that was enough. With a crashing, crackling finality, Quy bought the sword down and set the training field on fire.

Quy didn’t even wait for Song’s proclamation, striding back to the sidelines where Shima, and the three first years awaited him.

Shima gave the most imperceptible of nods. Jin looked impressed, Raah looked contemplative.

And Han looked scared.

Quy gave him an empty smile with just the tiniest hint of teeth. Run and tell anyone else, and you will die.

“Quite amazing,” Raah said. “You never fail to amaze us, Quy.”

“As expected as the son of Lord Quyen,” Quy said loftily. He glanced at the crowds who had come to watch, their chatter, and their incredulous looks at him.

Tried not to show how much the entire thing was a waste of time. Ginzan had only become one of the top second years due to a non-combat popularity. Ideally, Mai would have dealt with him, and any other waste-of-time-mages before Quy took back what was rightfully his.

He had wanted to keep Mai as a blackmailed double. She could have been useful: a blade in the dark, a trick that no-one in the court could see, and someone to take the tedious, boring tasks.

I still can. Quy’s day brightened up a little.

“You’re the top first and second year, now,” said Raah. “Will you challenge your brother for the last third years?”

Han looked surprised. “He’s your brother?”

“Quang is unfortunately away on a study placement,” Quy said dismissively. He gave Han a sidelong look. “But if it came to it...you know who would win.”

Han nodded grimly.

Quy immediately smiled. “Don’t worry so, Han! He’s my brother. We would never fight.”

Han didn’t look like he quite believed, which meant Han’s home life was clearly troubled.

And therefore, a weak point.

Quy smiled benevolently.

*

With a thudding heart and sweaty palms, Han dashed to Thon’s tea shop.

His breath rushed out of him when he saw the real Quy—Khai—sitting calmly with Mr. Kiri as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Khai!” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Khai met his eyes and grimaced.

“We need to talk,” Han said, before Mr. Kiri could say anything.

Khai gave Mr. Kiri an apologetic bow. “If you don’t mind.”

Mr. Kiri glanced between them. “Go, then.”

The two of them headed to the Fountains once again: Han thought that the sound of the water would help mask their conversation. He wanted to reach out, to touch Khai, to make sure he was there and real.

A hundred-and-one thoughts stopped him. “What’s happening, Quy?” Han asked, his eyes sliding away. “There was someone else there today. Someone who fought Ginzan, and injured him, badly.”

Quy/Khai sat down heavily on the edge of one of the Fountains. “He’s a good fighter, then.”

“I wouldn’t know who would win if you two fought,” Han admitted, his stomach rolling at the thought.

“I’m not the real Quy.”

Han flinched, eyes shooting to the fire mage in front of him. The ground felt unsteady. “You’re not?”

“As you can see, we looked very much alike. But he is Quy, son of Lord Quyen. And I’m Khai, nephew of Healer Mage Tien.” Khai didn’t meet Han’s eyes. “I come from Karashu.”

Han blanched. “Raah was right. You’re the fake.”

“He wanted me as a body double, to fight in his place. Apparently he finds distaste in it, though given that he fought Ginzan...he never needed me in the first place.”

Han’s head hurt, and so did his heart. “What about classes? Your lectures?”

“I’ll return to my original university, perhaps.” Khai looked down.

“Which?”

Khai didn’t answer, still not meeting Han’s gaze.

Han scrubbed at his eyes. “I don’t want to follow that Quy. He’s...he’s Lord Quyen’s son. I should have known. I knew you didn’t act like those of the court.”

“Why would you follow me? Han, I’m not...if I wasn’t a mage, I would have been nothing.”

Han snorted. “You’re a healer, and you’re one of the best combat mages at Baashi. You’re definitely something, Khai.” He suddenly realised something—“Khai is your real name, isn’t it? The whole time.”

Khai nodded.

Now that Han’s worry and fear had ebbed away, anger and betrayal took their place. “Damn it, Khai. I thought someone had killed you and replaced you! Aren’t we friends? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought that we—that there was something else between us. But you would have kept the deception up!”

Khai flinched. “I was stupid. I’d like to think that I would have told you. But it was a dangerous secret—it still is. If anyone else found out...Quy might not be punished. But I have no rank to protect me. And if not telling you was the only way to protect you—”

“I’m not weak,” Han retorted. “I can protect myself. The real Quy knows that I know!” He slumped down on the edge of the fountain too.

“...I’m sorry.”

Han looked away.

The silence between them stretched. Han glanced at Khai: he was fiddling with his hands, a small globe of steaming water twisting back and forth, and his magic pulsed in the same rhythm.

Han had felt Khai’s fire when he battled, so different to what it was now. He shuddered, remembering that sword of flame the real Quy had used.

At the end of the day… “We’re friends,” Han said quietly. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Khai immediately answered. His magic jumped in determination.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Khai blinked, looking confused. “Gold. The colour of the sun. What’s yours?”

Han laughed, feeling a little hysterical. “Not red like fire, then. Green’s my favourite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind?” Khai had a hesitant smile.

Han stood up, and held out a hand to Khai. “Let’s get back to Mr. Kiri.”

*

Khai had gratefully accepted Han’s hand. It was easy to pretend that nothing had changed as they went about the lower districts: they never mentioned Baashi, anyway.

As night fell, Khai farewelled the others and initially started off in his usual direction. When he was sure no-one was following him, he looped to over to a different district, to a place he had found to stay, one that didn’t care for official papers so long as he handed them the money.

The next day, Khai dressed up as a girl and headed over to Immin, ready to lie through his teeth.