“Are you staying?”

The words sort of echo in my head. Lily’s words, the words of Lady Sheid, who I guess was a goddess and nowadays might get the capital, who is Lady of the Crossroads and a bunch of other things besides, who is unbelievably powerful and standing right there with her eyes locked on mine, have a tremendous and terrifying freight to them.

They’ve got the weight of an oath, weighing on my shoulders and at the same time unkinking my spine as I straighten beneath its pressure.

I don’t know what answer I would have given if I hadn’t bitten it back. There was an unthinking word there, something that was immediate and unconsidered, and that was unworthy of the moment and of Lily. This wasn’t something to answer with a quip, or a piece of snarky pedantry; she’d given me a real answer to the question I’d asked her, a question that was deeply personal and obviously significant, and I would give her something true and genuine in return.

“If you’d asked me in my first two weeks in Cador,” I say slowly, “I’d have said no. In a heartbeat or with consideration, either way; I’d have taken any chance offered to rip a hole in the world in a makeshift navpod, in a scrapskiff, and risked everything for the slimmest possible chance of getting back home. I’d have done this despite the vast unlikelihood of success, despite not having the supplies I did, despite no longer having… despite what I’ve lost in coming here.

“I’d have done this despite the fact that home, frankly, was toxic and abusive; I owed, owe, the Spirit nothing, I owed the ten million people on it the grace and the duty to do good and mitigate harm that I owe any one of them, but I was lied to in the first place and those ten million people were hostages against my behavior, and I owed the Spirit as a whole nothing.

“I’d have done it because I was alone.” The words come out like an admission, not quite like an apology. “I’d have done it because I hate violence, and I’d almost rather die than kill. Which was news to me, since if you’d asked me a month ago, I’d have said that, no, I would rather die than kill, but that’s not relevant, I guess. So yeah, if you’d asked me a month ago, if you’d asked me anytime before I activated that pylon, my answer wouldn’t even have been no, it would have been I’d rather drown nude in the Dark.” Amber’s hand is in mine, somehow, didn’t notice when that happened, and she squeezes my hand back when I squeeze hers. “But I’m not alone anymore.

“I’m not,” I repeat the words softly, “alone anymore. I have Amber, and I know better than to think she’ll leave me, even though I’ll make sure she can and I’ll make sure she gets to choose. And even if Zidanya and Sara leave and Vonne doesn’t come with us, I still won’t be alone. And it’s not just that I can’t take her with me, because she’d be anchoring me here, effectively; unworthy as I am of this, awful though her creation was, I can’t deny that I want nothing more to stay in the world that birthed her, meet every person who ever brought her joy and thank them for their part in existing such that the constraints of who she was made to be could have been fulfilled in the way that they were.

“So… yes, Lily, Lillit, Lady Sheid. Yeah.” I feel the weight on my shoulders, that metaphysical pressure of attention, lift. “Yeah, I’m staying.”

“Good.” Lily smiles with what even I can tell is fondness. Somehow, it doesn’t have the same knee-liquefying power as most of her smiles; it’s got a fission pile’s worth of joy, yeah, but it doesn’t short-circuit my brain.

Also, it’s not in the ritual for her to respond, rather than exchanging some sort of motion of respect and then leaving, but who needs to follow a ritual, right?

Me. I need to follow the ritual. Or at least, back when we were following the ritual, I wasn’t panicking, but now?

“Cador needs people like you, Adam.” She taps her jawline with a fingernail, head tilted just a little bit. “You’ve been a most gracious host. I should be pleased were I able to return the favor… perhaps in the Silks, after your victories are complete and I have no obligations of seeming to look upon you with an objective ill-favor?”

“I sort of expected I’d be on the move as soon as the fights were done, honestly.” I’m missing something, I realize as soon as I finish saying it, because Zidanya has gone mostly shock-still and is practically vibrating with the effort not to react hugely to that, eyes wide and jaw twitching. “Not that your hospitality hasn’t been impeccable,” I add, doing my best not to seem like I’m doing it hastily. It really has been impeccable. “I assumed that it wouldn’t extend past the victory. This is a surprise, a welcome one.”

Lily smiles even wider, eyes crinkling at the corners as she does. “Some surprises are like that. I’ll grant you leave to consider it until our night turns into day and you walk onto the sands. And Zidanya?”

“Lady.” Zidanya’s voice is low and unsteady.

“You did a fine job at Low Mode today, but I rather liked him in High Mode, even if you’d have to adapt to the setting. Don’t you think?”

“As turns the sun to the flower, as grow the vines through the wall.” My companion’s voice is husky, quiet, and for all of Omniglot’s grace and power, I have absolutely no idea what she means. “Shall it burn for its turn, shall masonry come to fall? What does the sun ask of the stalk, an such come to pass?”

“Zhosha.” Lily’s voice has shifted in tone, to somewhere in the vicinity of gently chiding, with undertones I can’t place. “It’s reciprocal hospitality. I can’t grant him guest-right now, but if he takes the offer once this is over, all honor, all the promises of the Silks apply. I swear it, may the Paladin judge me in the morning after.” She breathes out, turning to me, smiling now more faintly, more fey. “I will ask you for no answer. I will demand of you no grace. It’s an offer on the table.”

“Before the horn calls, you shall have an answer.” Amber’s voice is unusually formal, but Zidanya is too busy being stunned and I have no idea what to say. I’d prepared and emotionally committed to an exact course of action, and thankfully my companions were picking up the slack now that things are deviating. “We thank the Lady for her grace, for her presence, and for the offer itself; and for her story, and the chance to share our own. May that sharing bring growth to us all.”

“Well said. Kazir suits you.” Lily nods at Amber, and then at me. “She suits you, but no less do you suit her. There are worse fates. Magus, you’ll upend the world next century; live to make it happen, it’ll be a better world for it. Gavonne, you’ve grown into your name, if you’ll let yourself believe. And Zidanya?” She nods at each of us in turn, then smiles with obvious fondness. “Breathe. Hold me in your heart, when the true sun shines upon you, and I will yet be with you.”

Lily takes four steps to get to the door, and her weight gathers around her like a swirling cloak. It pulls away from all of us, like significance being stripped from the world. By the time she’s about to step across the threshold, her advice to Zidanya notwithstanding, none of us are breathing; the air isn’t air, it’s nothing, it’s just a bunch of matter in meaningless arrangements and energy states, and then she’s over the threshold, and I can feel her domain explode outwards.

It moves faster than the speed of thought, and at the same time, it moves slowly enough that I can watch it sweep over every molecule. It passes through me and wraps around me, it touches every alveolus in my lungs, and I breath a staggering breath of oxygen and nitrogen, of a composition of gasses that have names and descriptions and which contain meaning and can be described with language.

I drag three more breaths through my lungs, standing shakily up. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen to one knee.

“Absent Scion.” I think the whisper comes from Sara, shaky and full of emotion that I’ve never seen her show.

“She has a personal magical domain over the entire Tournament, doesn’t she. And that… that is what it’s like when she turns it off.”

It’s a dumb thing to say in response, a nonsense speculation about something that’s both obvious and meaningless, unspecific in the extreme. I say it into the silence anyway, because someone’s got to say something, and let’s face it, that’s always going to be me.

In response, everyone starts talking at the same time. Well, that and laughing.

“Green-eyed monster that I am, even so I canst but advise thus: take her offer, grant her assent afore she thinks twice.”

“Adam, did you see that, that was amazing, I’ve never seen the Lady do something like that!”

“My Lord, I do believe you have just passed your first-ever social challenge.”

I throw my hands up into the air, laughing with them. “Of course that’s your takeaway. Stars and ship-shards, Amber, I think I did. Zidanya, what was that? You… seemed to know.”

There’s a moment where I don’t know if she’s going to cry, scream, or talk. She sits down on the nearest couch instead, back straight and a laugh bubbling up through her voice as we all sit back down with her. “Aye. Yes, I do.

“The Silks is a room, akin to a pavilion. It was a promise to me, centuries ago, and a promise to herself; that nothing should transpire within that does not bring joy to those present.” Zidanya clears her throat, looking almost awkward. “Magelord, I will not lie and say it brings me ease that she pursues you, but…”

“He will go.” Amber’s voice is firm and gleeful. She’s smirking at me, when I peek out from between my fingers, head cradled in my hands. She’s hugging me around the shoulders, pulling my head to rest on her breasts, and she’s gleeful and smirking. “We will make him magnificent in whatever mode Lily desires her prey, and we will send him into her den, and rejoice when he returns to us.”

There’s no arguing with that, and for all that we need to get moving and get to the training grounds to meet up with Khalal, I let Amber distract me and let the tension flow out of my muscles.

Only for a moment, but sometimes, a moment can make a difference.