Mixoly was an exception. In every conceivable way, the Muse had not been normal. For all that had accompanied her existence on the earth, as much as she’d loathed it, Octavia had half-expected the process of guidance to be abnormal in some capacity. Logically, she knew there was a solid chance it wouldn't be as simple as Mixoly plainly ascending--for all evidence that had indicated otherwise. As to where that would leave the Muse once her form was lost and her vessel was absent, Octavia couldn’t fathom. The boundary was out there. It was, perhaps, not Mixoly’s to cross. If the Muse had objections, she didn’t say so.

  Octavia practically held her breath throughout the entire process. Exception or otherwise, there was no change to the Ambassador’s methods. Octavia’s careful, gentle touch upon Miracle Agony was enough to compromise Mixoly’s brilliance, scattering the starry sparkle that had competed with the moon. It was one thing Octavia would miss, no matter the outcome of her perilous gamble. Mixoly’s splendor, a blessing to a world that didn’t deserve her, dissipated bit by bit in a display as graceful and quiet as she was.

  Where some went out with an incredible presentation of radiance unraveled and unleashed, Mixoly’s delicate glow was simply a flickering candle by comparison. It was as beautiful to witness hush and fade as it was regretful, a star Octavia couldn’t stand to see burn out. Mixoly was still and compliant, submissive beneath Octavia’s guidance as her luminous visage slowly melted into the open air.

  So did Miracle Agony. For how many times Octavia had laid her hands upon it in recent weeks, she was surprised the Harmonial Instrument hadn’t outright fused to her skin. When she felt the solid pressure beneath her fingertips begin to give way, she regretted that, too. Theo was motionless throughout the process, deathly still as he steadied his hands for her.

  It gave them both leeway to watch Mixoly depart in silence, the cottage utterly devoid of sound in a way that was as comforting as it was sorrowful. Still, Octavia held her breath. With the way Theo’s shoulders rose and fell steadily, he hardly needed to do the same. She envied his trust. She could understand it.

  When her fingers at last met with nothing, her skin colliding delicately with Theo’s palms instead, he met her touch with grace. His hands were warm and welcoming, and she was content to hold them forever. The last sparkles of the silent star that had shaped his life flickered and evaporated in full, her image lost somewhere Octavia couldn’t imagine. She couldn’t will herself to exhale.

  How long it would take Mixoly to reach the boundary was debatable. If it was instant, she would never have known. In surrendering Mixoly to the freedom of the spider web she detested, Octavia had tied a rope around her neck. At any time, in any way, all Mixoly had to do was change her mind and pull. It would be immediate. It would be unpredictable, whether now or in the distant future. It was a curse she couldn’t undo, and Octavia shivered under the idea.

  And yet, if it wasn’t quick, if she still had a breath to hold onto a full minute later, there was surely some hope that remained. Where Octavia thought to steal the fire in Theo’s gaze once more, the shimmer she found instead was tender and muted. It grew. So, too, did his eyes widen. For the first time since she’d met him, she found tears.

  Octavia was positive that it was sorrow, at first, for how closely he’d held the Muse to his heart. When his palms rushed to his face, he buried his sight in what darkness they could offer. He did so several times over, watery smears left staining his skin as he rubbed his eyes fervently. Any sobbing was absent. Instead, he trembled, blinking so rapidly that Octavia feared he’d hurt himself. His eyes drifted to the intrusive moon, bleeding through curtains onto the floor below. For once, he stared with something far more than urgency.

  Theo lifted the same glistening eyes to hers, and he entrusted her with his freedom. It took Octavia a moment to recognize it at all. If she couldn’t save Mixoly, there was at least one thing she’d salvaged tonight. Save for his companionship, it was all that could ease the fear in her soul.

  Octavia reached for Theo’s still-shaky hands. He didn’t resist. She stroked his fingers with her thumbs gently, and he tightened his grip in the slightest. Octavia had nothing to offer with words, her interpreter stolen for good. She at least had her heart. She knew his. She liked to imagine he knew hers.

  Bang.

  For the tension she’d held onto, only just beginning to unwind, Octavia jumped fiercely enough that her fragile heart could’ve exploded. Her reaction was all that startled Theo in turn, the sound lost on him.

  Bang. Bang.

  It was locked, granted.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Given the way the cottage practically shook beneath the assault against the door again and again, it mattered little. Octavia could hardly bring her hands to part with Theo’s. Of one of them, she didn’t. With her spared arm, she swept the boy behind her as best as she could.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  She’d lost track of time in full. Beyond the curtains, from what glow the sheer veils had offered to her in the depths of the night, the moon had risen dangerously high. If she compared it to her typical Mixoly nights, it matched her usual schedule. It was roughly as expected, and part of her praised her prior preparation.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  It didn’t change the fact that Octavia was utterly unarmed, and the Heartful boy she pulled tightly against her back was much the same. She’d cursed him in that manner. She gritted her teeth. Even so, she wasn’t as afraid as she thought she’d be.

  Bang.

  It wasn’t the strongest lock in the world. At the very least, the hinges didn’t come off the door. Octavia wrote yet another mental apology for how much damage had been done to Theo’s cottage since they’d met. Replacing the doorknob was going to be another issue entirely. Theo didn’t cling to her. Octavia was convinced, really, that he had half a mind to face whatever threatened them head-on of his own accord--armed or not. It was how she’d learned him to be.

  Bang.

  And when the door swung inwards, the moonlight that served as her timer flooding the darkened cottage, it was the first time all three of them had been in the same place, face-to-face. It should’ve been warm, for the kinship their legacies should’ve brought. In reality, it was a tension unlike any Octavia could find a comparison for.

  The Maestra that invaded the once-silent abode was silent herself, at least briefly. Where Stradivaria and Miracle Agony were absent, Jadareverie was not. It was steadied, positioned, and level with its Maestra’s eyes as needed. She took several steps over the threshold, undaunted as she stepped into the compromised darkness. Even unarmed, Octavia didn’t flinch. Behind her, Theo, too, stood his ground.

  The silence that settled between them burned, initially. Octavia watched as Faith’s eyes darted around the room. They touched Theo, they touched the Ambassador, and they touched every inch of shadow and light spilling into corner after corner. They touched the same, in order, once more. Octavia saw the way her fingers tightened around either portion of the viola just the slightest bit firmer.

  “Where’s…where is it?” Faith asked weakly, her voice shaking somewhat.

  Octavia narrowed her eyes. “I already guided her. You’re not gonna find her.”

  Faith’s own eyes widened. “You…what?”

  She didn’t back down. Even so, she chose her words carefully. “I guided her, and nothing happened. It didn’t matter what you did, or what anyone did. I was going to do it regardless. She was a Muse. She deserved to be free.”

  Faith tensed, Jadareverie never slipping out of position. “I-I don’t understand.”

  She has…guided her?

  “I did, and it went fine,” Octavia spoke to the unseen Muse alone, her voice low. “I’m the Ambassador. I refuse to leave a single one of you behind. That includes her. She’s gone. Do whatever you want to me, but she’s already out there.”

  You are…

  Whether Jasse trailed off or was outright interrupted, Octavia was unsure.

  “W-What am I supposed to do now?” she heard Faith murmur hurriedly, her eyes flickering down to the viola atop her shoulder.

  You know not what you have done.

  Octavia shook her head. “I know exactly what I did. If you wanna turn around and tell that to Ramulus, be my guest. If you wanna tell Stratos, he’s gonna hear it from me anyway. What’s done is done, and I trust her more than I trust any of you.”

  It felt just as good to say to Jasse as it had felt to say to Stratos. They couldn’t replace her. In that way, she was made of steel. It felt incredible.

  “What do you want me to do?” Faith nearly shouted, her voice wavering violently. So, too, were her hands outright trembling around the bow and body of the viola alike.

  There is nothing to be done.

  “Then what’s the point?” she screamed. “I don’t understand any of this!”

  Do not worry.

  “Why can’t you just tell me?” Faith pleaded. Whatever focus she’d given to the two Heartful Maestros before her had long since been lost. “I did this for you!”

  As I have stated, there is nothing more to be done.

  The gaze she gave to Octavia was simultaneously fearful and sharp. It was wordless--Octavia had expected a demand for an explanation at best and hostilities at worst. Her breathing was ragged once more as she stared them down both in tandem, her confusion more than visible in every gesture. Logically, Octavia knew they were still more than in significant danger, readied as Faith was and empty-handed as they were. Somehow, regardless, she was unafraid. If Theo was the same, utterly calm at her back even now, the Ambassador was perhaps more fearless for it.

  To Faith’s credit, she didn’t knock anything over on the way out this time--intentionally or otherwise. Her labored breaths were more than audible as she reclaimed the night, leaving only a broken doorknob and spilled moonlight in her wake. Octavia hesitated to move, nor to release her grip on Theo’s hand even several seconds after Faith had fled. She made to turn to him, although she knew inquiring as to his safety with body language alone would be a trial.

  She didn’t make it that far. Octavia enjoyed the way his arms felt around her torso, an embrace unexpected and yet beloved all the same.

  She gave it back in silence, facing Theo in full as she pulled him close. For everything she wanted to say and couldn’t, this was enough to suffice. To leave him felt sacrilegious, even as he himself gestured to the moon beyond the curtains again and again. Still, long after he’d untethered his arms from her body, she refused to do the same. She was no Lucian. It didn't matter, and she cherished the Heartful child in her own way. Theo didn’t fight her love, and for that, she was grateful.

  It was to her dismay that she hadn’t stopped to learn yet more with which to communicate with him from River. Really, all she had to show for her many Mixoly nights was her own name, her title, and several threats she’d come to piece together involuntarily. As to whatever gestures he made with such a soft smile, motioning to her heart and his own again and again, she could decipher them with love to fill the gaps. Like his brother before him, he glowed.

  Octavia did everything she could to reciprocate his gestures, meaningless as her own were. She motioned to their hearts in unison herself, for what it was worth. Linguistically, it was surely of little value without context. She hoped he appreciated the sentimental effort. For how Theo nodded, his gently-gleaming smile more than evident, he surely understood her intent. It was the happiest she’d ever felt in this place, given how strained her heart had been.

  And when she left Theo behind, it wasn’t with a frantic promise to return. It wasn’t with reassurance of deception, nor with a threat at her back. It wasn’t with truths and lies trailing in her footsteps, nor with fear clogging her heart and dread settling in her stomach. Even with the very world entrusted to another she’d hardly known, Octavia felt light. She felt free. When she ran, it was to kiss the breeze and enjoy the night rather than pray for isolation and safety.

  Do not trust Stratos.

  She still didn’t. This, though, was one less thing he could take from her. It was a victory over the spider web, and she celebrated it with everything she had.

  It was a high that she should’ve toned down, somewhat, for how much attention she drew on the way in. That wasn’t entirely avoidable.

  “Oh, good, got the grass out of your system?” Renato joked, sprawled out on the couch as he was.

  “Okay, I know you said late, but it’s, like…late late,” Harper semi-scolded.

  Madrigal, at least, took her return well. She smiled brightly, as always. “Is it a nice night? Do you wanna go back out with all of us? I think looking at the stars together would be fun!”

  “It’s one o’clock in the morning,” Josiah muttered. “No one should be going back out. You’re staying now, right? Like, we can all go to bed?”

  “It was your idea to stay up!” Harper hissed in a whisper.

  “Did you, uh, still wanna talk?” Renato asked, his low voice for her alone.

  Octavia didn’t respond to any of it. Her glow was too warm, her happiness too fresh. It showed, soft as it was, and she didn’t mind. In her silence, they eyed her with equal parts worry, suspicion, and confusion.

  Madrigal tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she finally said quietly. For once, it was genuine.

  They didn’t press her as she ascended each step. Octavia could hear their whispers, some of them louder and more akin to quiet bickering than others. It was enough to garner a giggle, her spirits lighter than ever.

  She wasn’t afraid of him.

  And when she reached her room, the door closing behind her with a soft click, her fear was just as absent with every motion that took her into comfortable clothing and the soft protection of her bed. He was an afterthought.

  You have gone there regardless.

  His words carried no threat.

  “I did.”

  Even after you have faced him.

  Octavia scoffed bitterly, her mood only somewhat compromised. It came with a smirk, venomous as it was. “Oh, good, you knew about that. Had a feeling that had something to do with you.”

  It was not out of malice that he was made aware.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. I guided her,” she spat with muted pride.

  You have…done what?

  She shrugged nonchalantly, resting her head atop her arms. “I guided Mixoly. I told you I would. And guess what? It went fine. Saw a whole lot more than I should’ve, probably. I saw everything. She had some pretty interesting memories, I’ll tell you that much.”

  You…you have…even after what you have been told?

  Stratos' reaction was priceless. In the sickest way, she enjoyed it. Octavia knew the feeling probably wasn’t healthy. “You know, for all you want to talk about believing in me, you seemed pretty damn sure I couldn’t pull this off. So much for that.”

  Her…memories?

  “All of them. Bet you guys had fun up there, huh? Never thought I’d see you in a toll again.”

  Was she…satisfied? Of her guidance, was she at peace?

  Octavia rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you care.”

  I do.

  “Liar.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Not of this.

  “Oh, so you are lying about other things, then.”

  Octavia, please, he pleaded gently. I…hope only that she is--

  “You really had the nerve to tell Jasse, huh?”

  He was silent. It was all the evidence Octavia needed. She sighed.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Honestly, I don’t care if you told her directly, or if Ramulus did. If she knew, it was because of you. Faith could’ve killed me, worst-case scenario. You don’t give a damn, do you?”

  That silence, at least, burned. For all he'd kept from her, supposedly, she hadn’t quite expected the muffled hostilities--by proxy as they were. Octavia struggled not to let it sting.

  “You’re free to be mad that I’m not your perfect little Ambassador if you want, but I’m the only Ambassador you’ve got. We’re almost done. You and I have the same goal, regardless of how we feel about each other. I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me, whatever.”

  I do trust--

  “Let me finish. We’ll be done soon, so let’s just get through the rest of this in peace. You want to get up there again, and I’m the one who’s gonna get you there. Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. We’ll do what we have to do together, go our separate ways, and you can spend the rest of your life up there mad at me.”

  Octavia, I am not--

  “Goodnight.”

  Octavia.

  “Goodnight,” she repeated.

  When Stratos' voice spared her head, Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. For all the thoughts she’d expected to fill the gap, racing and aflame as they so often were, she was almost startled to find peace in place of noise. By no means did she expect to sleep well. Still, she at least earned a comfortable descent into the unconscious world for once. She took a smile of satisfaction with her all the way there.

  For as close as Octavia was to sending them all to the place they’d longed to return, he was still her partner--for better or worse. It was no longer a bond of love, but a collaboration she swore to tolerate with what little of her heart she could graciously spare as the Ambassador. She was his Maestra, deserving of his light for all he’d put her through. If Stratos wanted to use her, she’d use him right back. For the lies that lived beyond his luminescence, Octavia’s lack of fear hadn’t fully blunted her concern. She’d count the days until he, too, was gone, and would keep him far closer to her wary eyes than her warm heart.

  The timing of the Soulful returning to Tacell once more was immaculate. Only two days prior, she had completely and utterly run out. It was the most surreal feeling Octavia had ever experienced in her life.

  It wasn’t the byproduct of a ban, nor simple pacing that limited her day-to-day guidance. In the three months since she’d journeyed to Tacell, her speed had been augmented markedly by the contributions of those who’d organized all that had graced her hands. As their numbers dwindled ever further, she’d silently showered Samuel and Priscilla in gratitude hundreds of times over.

  Of the former, Octavia would be doubly sure to offer the same in some direct capacity, eventually. Of the latter, she simply added yet more love to the part of her heart reserved for the deepest reds of autumn alone. What had been gifted to the Ambassador by the work of those who’d come before was a godsend that she still had yet to fully believe existed. In that way, it perhaps took two Ambassadors to see the deed through after all.

  And with what had been salvaged from the furthest reaches of Mezzoria at last, it left only eighteen. The number was unfathomable. Octavia had repeated it on her own lips again and again, half convinced she’d come to find there were dozens more she’d missed somewhere. The idea of counting how many tolls it had collectively taken to make it this far was laughable. Seraphim’s Call alone had accounted for the vast, vast majority of those. She wondered if she’d cracked 15,000, or if she yet would. It wasn’t a competition she was keen to win.

  There were more important things that could be returned from the corners of the continent than Maestros she’d never met. Octavia much, much preferred the ones she had.

  “And I didn’t find her first, granted, but I still knew.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Like, I could tell.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And I was the first one who knew she was Spirited! I pointed it out first! I mean, it didn’t really matter that much, honestly, because we just needed to find her, but still, it was so fast! It was instant!”

  “It was that fast?”

  “You should’ve seen it!” Viola practically cried, arms aloft and face split wide with a radiant smile.

  “How did it feel?”

  In truth, it wasn’t the content of Viola’s explanation that mattered. Seeing her gush over a gift that grew more every day was wonderful, solely given the expressions it garnered. Octavia would've been content to listen to the Maestra’s excited retelling of her excursion forever, if the situation allowed. It was a different kind of sunshine to bask in, given the lack of it she’d been granted beneath the clouds that stole it away.

  She remembered to return what had been entrusted to her, at least. It would most likely have been better to do so outside of Viola’s elated spiel, and yet the urge to cut her off in what was essentially the most humorous way Octavia could think of was too great. She adored the blush that didn’t seize her own cheeks, for once. She also remembered to do it outside this time, for how her love had been double-edged before. Viola’s face was absolutely worth it, second only to the sensation.

  Octavia was impatient that morning. She shot for all seven at once. The temptation was overpowering.

  In retrospect, part of her wondered if her haste was appreciated by the Maestros in question. For how far they’d come, she didn’t particularly envy their transportation home. Regardless, it spared them from extended lodgings in what was still, effectively, the middle of nowhere. Her efforts were met with absurd amounts of concern and scolding, for how her zeal had left her mildly light-headed and disoriented by the end of the sixteen tolls gathered between the Maestros. No amount of reminding anyone that it wasn't even slightly adjacent to her record assuaged their fears. It wasn’t enough to compromise her smile.

  Octavia counted those that remained with care, of the seven she was unfamiliar with--Strong, Spirited, Spirited, Willful, Soulful, Essenced, and Spirited. Of those, River was more than engrossed in the guidance of three. She wrote it off as politeness the first time, recognition of their contributions to the cause. The second time, she opted to attribute his interest to kinship, cherished before it could be lost. The third time, whatever indiscernible look had crossed his face the whole way through was impossible to assign to anything. She stopped trying.

  “What’s…going on with him?” Octavia had finally asked.

  Briar was hesitant, his voice soft and well out of earshot of the Maestro in question. “How many Spirited Maestros did you witness the tolls for, exactly?”

  Octavia blinked. “Recently?”

  “Ever.”

  It was too big a question. “I mean, a lot. I didn’t…count them all. Why?”

  Briar was quiet for a moment. Any shred of strain or discomfort crossing River’s face was always contagious, and Octavia didn’t particularly enjoy it--even from afar, gazing aimlessly at the clouded sky as he was. “I know you did a lot of guiding when we weren’t around. Did you…already guide the Apex of Spirit?”

  Octavia’s stomach lurched. “What?”

  “We never did find it. I’m wondering if maybe you just…guided them and didn’t realize it, maybe. It’s okay if you did. It wouldn’t change too much.”

  Her eyes flickered to River, even if her words remained offered to the Soulful boy before her. “I-I…does it matter?”

  Briar sighed heavily. “Ultimately, no. It’s better if you already did it, probably.”

  For what Francisco had told her of River’s Apex-tinted distress, it wasn’t a particular surprise that Briar shared the same concerns. As much as her heart ached to go behind River’s back, she could at least appreciate that their worries for his well-being overlapped. It wasn’t the only reason her heart was racing, given what she knew of that Apex’s current location. If he had to ask, Octavia could assume his own partner had kept the secret sealed away just as tightly. At the very least, she wasn’t the only one lying by omission.

  “It’s…just us now,” Octavia murmured.

  Briar nodded weakly, his eyes still largely on River alone. “Yeah. It’s kind of insane to think about.”

  “And Faith.”

  “Yeah. Almost forgot.”

  Octavia fidgeted with her hands somewhat. Looking at him directly was uncomfortable, for what was to leave her mouth. “When…do you want--”

  “What’s your plan from here?”

  She didn’t get that far. “What do you mean?”

  Briar claimed her gaze where she’d fought to keep it isolated--or, at the very least, thrown to River. “There’s a process from here on out, I’m sure. Your…Essenced friend isn’t a Maestro, I remember that much. That puts you with five in your circle, right? Then…us four, Faith, and their Lord of All. How are you planning on tackling that?”

  In reality, she hadn’t thought it to be overly difficult. The singular hurdle she’d feared clearing, of the eleven Muses that remained, had been clarified for her by several Muses of a legacy she was growing to distrust. Her path to the Apex of Heart was no longer obscured, and she said as much. “I know how to get to their Lord of All. That’s…taken care of.”

  Briar’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  Octavia nodded. “But he has to go last. He…has to make sure everyone else makes it out safe. That’s what Stratos told me.”

  “Stratos?”

  Never had she explicitly introduced him as such, she realized. It almost stung to clarify. “Yeah. My Muse.”

  And when she couldn’t bring herself to call him her partner, that, too, stung. It was involuntary.

  “That…makes sense, I suppose,” Briar accepted with a nod of his own. “Are you going to have to leave Tacell to guide them?”

  She was going to have to do more than that, frankly. “Yeah.”

  Briar smiled. “It was nice having you. You were an amazing Ambassador.”

  Octavia giggled. “I’m not done yet, you know. There’s still things I need to wrap up here. You can’t kick me out just yet.”

  Where she would’ve bet she’d see him return her amusement, she was surprised to see his face fall somewhat. “I know. We’re all going to miss you, obviously.”

  Where he fell silent, so did she. It wasn’t a question she could avoid forever, uncomfortable as it was to ask. Octavia almost felt bad for cutting him off.

  “Octavia, do you think it’d be possible to--”

  “When do you want me to guide your Muses?”

  Briar’s question was sliced in half. He didn’t bother to salvage it. “As in…the Ensemble?”

  Octavia nodded. “Yeah.”

  His smile was faint and sorrowful. “Truthfully, never. It’s…going to take some getting used to. I wasn’t especially looking forward to this. It might be better to get it over with sooner rather than later.”

  “How soon?”

  Briar chuckled. “Are you in a rush?”

  Mildly. She flushed anyway. “N-No, I mean, I’m not trying to pressure you. I know it’s a…big decision, and I want you guys to have time to say goodbye.”

  “Would this afternoon be alright?”

  Her eyes widened. “It doesn’t have to be that soon!”

  “It should be soon.”

  Briar’s voice was heavy enough that her objections fell flat. She didn’t need to press.

  “It really, honestly should be soon.”

  For the way his eyes had left hers, hunting for seafoam that rested anywhere except upon his own, Octavia tensed.

  “Briar?” she pushed.

  “I don’t…want to drag this out,” he said softly. “Do you remember the place we first met?”

  Non-specific as that sprawling field had been, plush and grassy in the most picturesque way, she hadn’t forgotten. “Yes.”

  “We’ll be there later. We’ll try to make it fast and painless. Would that be alright?”

  Octavia nodded hesitantly. “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’m…sorry to push this on you so quickly. I don’t want anyone thinking about it for longer than they have to.”

  She wanted to press, to apologize for any dismissal of his feelings. She wanted to comfort him, if necessary. Even this far into her role, tearing apart bonds forged with such tender love and trust tore her heart apart just as fiercely. Still, for the way he left her behind, isolated with only graying skies overhead to keep her company, Octavia never got the chance. Even if she could no longer tolerate her partner, there had once been a time where she’d more than stood in his shoes.

  She missed it, almost. She envied it, almost. Almost wasn’t enough.

  His offer left her with more time than she was comfortable killing. Where she typically paced herself with tolls and guidances throughout the day, provided she ever had the energy for more than one, her excitement that morning had left a sizable gap that she ached to fill some way or another. It was a war between completion and remorse, for how truly within her grasp a Dissonance-free world was. It didn’t erase the scathing reminder that it was not Briar nor the Ensemble alone from whom the Ambassador would soon rob of their closest companions.

  Octavia knew herself to be an exception, disconnected from her partner as she was. She briefly amused herself with the idea that she was no better than Cadence--although she’d at least acknowledged her partner’s existence. She settled on comparing herself to Josiah, had Josiah been slightly more correct in his accusations of lies and deception. Her apathy towards Stratos still left four people who very much loved their partners instead, and separating all four from their Muses was going to burn her alive. Some, for the specific flavors of sorrow that would follow those separations, ran the risk of killing her.

  Someone beat her to the balcony, for once. It hardly mattered. Her game of deception was over, her cards long since scattered across the table. There were no more Stratos nights or Mixoly nights, and her mask was unnecessary. Still, it was unusual for anyone besides herself to bond through soft songs alone--although, in her defense, it had been that Maestra’s idea first. Wordless beneath the obscured sky of a fading autumn, crisp and cold, Octavia was surprised the girl who blessed it with such gentle notes wasn’t cold herself. If nothing else, Octavia’s sleeves were infinitely longer. She felt awful interrupting. She did so anyway.

  “Octavia,” Madrigal acknowledged gently.

  Octavia winced. Her best efforts to step onto the chilly balcony in silence had been in vain, although she wasn’t particularly surprised. “No, you’re fine, ignore me! I-I just…wanted to listen, if that was…alright?”

  It came out as a question rather than a statement. Still, Madrigal’s soft smile was permission enough. “Of course.”

  Her lack of enthusiasm was as jarring as her muted smile, only sparkling delicately where Octavia would’ve expected to find the sunshine she’d been robbed of. She enjoyed the duet of Madrigal’s tender love and Lyra’s crystalline song, calming and melancholic all at once. It didn’t particularly ease her discomfort with the glass that had settled over Madrigal’s eyes.

  “Are you…feeling alright?”

  Logically, she knew she shouldn’t press. It was a reflex. If Madrigal minded, she didn’t say so. Instead, the girl only shook her head with an even fainter smile than before.

  “I’m…okay. I’m fine.”

  Octavia tried not to stare, for how Madrigal fixed her eyes only into the vast reaches of nature so far below. It was awkward anyway. She fidgeted against her will. “I…didn’t know you and Lyra still played together like this.”

  That smile, at least, was somewhat more genuine. “It’s been awhile. I feel bad for not playing with her more often.”

  Matching her smile was difficult, given how strained it was. Octavia tried to keep the conversation light. “Remember when you first told me how you would play to bond with her? I…stole that idea from you. Sorry about that. It helped a lot.”

  She declined to say what exactly it had helped with, multipurpose as the methodology had been. Octavia doubted it would’ve gone over well with Madrigal, to say nothing of the spider web still lost in the dark.

  Madrigal shook her head. “I’m glad it worked for you. I’m…glad you and Stradivaria could grow closer to each other.”

  It was just Madrigal. It was specifically Madrigal. Wherever she was, surely Mixoly would understand. Octavia bit her lip instead.

  The temptation to spill the details of the spider web’s grasp and Stratos’ deception before the Spirited Maestra was fresh. It took effort for Octavia to will herself to indulge in Madrigal’s song alone, a breeze-free melody born of delicate plucks and unspoken adoration. Something about the knowledge that Lyra, too, was complicit in her prior deception erased some of the tenderness inherent to the moment. It was frustrating.

  “It was two years.”

  Octavia almost missed Madrigal’s words altogether. “What?”

  Madrigal didn’t face her, offering only her back and a song that served as compensation. “It was two years. I checked again. It was definitely two.”

  It took Octavia a moment. The wave of relief that followed didn’t quite outmatch the tide of confusion that pooled around her ankles. “You…asked Lyra?”

  Madrigal nodded. “You’re sure River said he used ten years, right?”

  Octavia did the same, albeit with far more hesitation. “Y-Yeah.”

  Madrigal tilted her head slowly, unseen as her face was. The soft notes that struck the air vibrantly filled in where she was briefly silent. “Do you feel like you made the most of your time with Stradivaria?”

  It was a loaded question. Octavia had absolutely no clear way of answering. She wasn’t even necessarily sure if she was lying. “Yeah.”

  Madrigal paused. “I’m glad.”

  Octavia tensed. She knew she shouldn’t have. She still did so anyway. “Madrigal, are you…going to be okay when Lyra goes?”

  “No.”

  Octavia flinched. It was blunt, even soft as it was. It wasn’t unexpected, ultimately. “I-I…see. I’m sorry.”

  “She wants to go home, too,” Madrigal said quietly, her voice wavering in the absolute slightest. “She wants to see Ethel. It’d be cruel to keep her from him. It’d be…mean to keep her here.”

  When she sighed, her song was just the tiniest bit slower. “I’m still going to miss her with all of my heart. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  It was what Octavia was most afraid of.

  “She loves you,” Octavia practically blurted out. “A-And I’m sure she’s…so happy that you love her as much as you do. I’m sure she’s happy that you care about her enough to help her get home. And when she’s gone, you have lots of people who’ll be here for you, and there’s so much we’ll get the chance to do together. You have me, and you have Renato, and you have everyone else, a-and all of us…love you too.”

  Octavia hoped for a smile, desperate as her words were. Instead, she only found another sigh. It hurt. “I know.”

  She hardly had the words to counter the dismissal. She didn’t get the chance to find any.

  “Was I a good Maestra?” Madrigal nearly whispered.

  Octavia flinched. “What? Of course you were. You still are. Madrigal, you’re one of the strongest Maestras I’ve ever met. Why would you even ask that?”

  Given the weight of her words, it was impressive that her song and voice were as stable as they were. “I think I could’ve been better.”

  Octavia tensed. “What…would you even--”

  “When do I have to say goodbye?” Madrigal murmured sadly.

  Octavia’s muscles tightened almost painfully. “Uh…listen, Briar and the rest of the Ensemble are gonna let me perform the Witnessing later. It’ll be all of them. Faith, too.”

  “And that’s everyone in Tacell, then, right?”

  Octavia nodded. “That’s…everyone in total, actually. After that, it’s just us. Us, and the Muses’ Lord of All.”

  “The Apex of Heart.”

  She was surprised Madrigal remembered, somewhat. “Yeah.”

  The Spirited Maestra was quiet for a moment. “How are we going to find them?”

  Octavia shook her head instead, well aware that the motion was lost on Madrigal--still turned away as she was. “I already know where he is. We’ll…cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “I understand.”

  Her silence burned. No amount of discussion was bringing any life into Madrigal’s voice, as much as Octavia wished she could will the sun to shine in Madrigal’s words alone. The longer she drank in Madrigal’s sorrowful melody, openly so to any who knew of the joy she should be exuding instead, the more contagious her sorrow was.

  “Do you…want some space?” Octavia asked tentatively.

  Even if she’d been the one to offer, she hadn’t expected Madrigal to take her up on it--explicitly or otherwise. “Maybe.”

  Octavia winced. “I’m…here if you need me. I’m here if you…want to talk.”

  “I know.”

  It was a role reversal not quite lost on Octavia. It was highly uncomfortable.

  Where Madrigal played for the clouded sky alone, Octavia stole her residual notes on the way inside, clinging to what crystalline pain she could find in passing. It hurt, in a way, to realize she would soon lose Lyra’s song forever--try as she might to commit it to memory. Her suffering was surely nothing compared to the Maestra who wove such loving harmonies in the first place. Where Briar sought to end things quickly for the sake of stemming despair, part of Octavia thought to drag out the circumstances for Madrigal and Madrigal only.

  In all the time Octavia had known her, she had shimmered most brilliantly with Lyra’s name on her lips and the Muse’s touch in her heart. As to what Madrigal would be without her, only time would tell. Octavia didn’t want to be the catalyst. For now, flat against the door from the inside, she strained to steal what little of their bond the Ambassador could cherish by proxy. It was a memento not hers to take.