They returned to civilization, for her Lady had unfulfilled tasks to perform. The reprieve had ended; her duty began anew.

  Such was her father’s wish.

  His will.

  Thus, she obeyed, and their tour continued, island to island, throughout the sea. Harbors they saw, fields they walked, halls they attended, always together. It was routine, it was work, but they worked as one.

  At times her Lady would instruct her and see that she had not forgotten. Socia trained under her eyes. Hands met, arms crossed when they sparred.

  Socia still hunted, caught some prey, and served it to her Lady, far away from gilded halls.

  When they attended such gatherings, Socia did enjoy tea and drink, cake and dishes. Hollow talk she did perform, to listen and to smile for a mask she learned to forge better than before, to hide heart and face.

  For that which lay behind her mask was not for them to know.

  That truth belonged only to one.

  A year had passed since they had arrived at the ocean, and these thoughts were still heavy on her mind, as the ice appeared before her eyes.

  Frozen islands she had seen, little villages filled with fishermen, hunters of seals and bigger things.

  But now beyond the ice, a distant beacon, its light red and bright, called them to pierce the ice.

  Her Lady steered their vessel forth and its brass prow, melted through the ice, red and glowing, for such was her power.

  Clad in fur were they both, of the finest kind, for soon the next part of her tour would begin.

  Below the beacon, a city, of basalt wrapped in cold, whipped by wind.

  The Boundless Expanse awaited them.

  As they approached the harbor, other grand vessels that dwarfed theirs were leaving port. Filled to the brim with the main export of these lands, for though rich in timber, stone and ore, it was one thing they were famed for more.

  People.

  Socia knew of these lands, some of the workers in Socia’s father’s plant hailed from here. Stern men, hardy women, the lands sparse, the people fruitful, thus a surplus for the Dominion to extract.

  Ship after ship would leave and sever cherished bonds. A final embrace and words likewise told a thousand and more times, for soon only letters could be sent, the words therein all that would remain.

  It was the city of the Third Marshal that welcomed them, one of many in this land. Their vessel now faced with no ice, as around them in the waters rose towers of stone and steel, and beyond them a city of high rises, each more majestic than the next, of black basalt, grey stone, and occasionally even one of wood.

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  They docked and were received… by everyone.

  Her Lady disembarked, a hand she received, given by the Marshal.

  Cameras flashed, people cheered, flowers given and then handed back to an attending small child, dressed quite well.

  On she marched surrounded by all, the Marshal at her side, and Socia followed behind, as an attendant should, she didn’t mind.

  It was work.

  They continued through the streets, to the people’s cheers and hands who reached for her. Paper rained down on them, from the high rises around, each bearing her Lady’s father’s flag.

  The one that hung everywhere, not just here.

  Black it was.

  And at its center.

  A red sun.

  The parade continued, the Marshal led, stern and strong he seemed, a giant of a man, a god, and strapping he was, that Socia could tell.

  To a podium they were led, for her Lady to possess.

  A Scion bride the Marshal had, from a mighty house of proper kind, beautiful and fierce, yet she knew to curtsy before her better.

  A child she had at her side, a little girl in a blue gown.

  To both her Lady offered smiles, and to the little girl a rose she made, from the air and wind, with her mind.

  Then she talked to the people, her words like honey, her voice like wine.

  And as she spoke, she remembered the tale they told her as a child. Whether father, mother or teachers, they all knew the words, the story taught.

  The Ambition with the Bride, the purest of them all, seven daughters had.

  Each as fair as a star.

  To be plucked from the sky and given to all.

  To love and cherish in their hearts.

  Such is his love.

  For us all.

  The reception had been spectacular, the dishes and drinks all exceeded her expectations.

  But she hadn’t known who or what he was, truly.

  The Third Marshal, Overseer of Logistics and Supply.

  A god of logistics.

  Maybe that is why Socia found their conversations so easy at the table, the movement of goods, not alien to her own divine nature.

  He was a man.

  One she once would have dreamed of having. Strong. Decisive.

  Not cruel, but attentive.

  Knew when to shine, and when to fade, so others could shine too.

  Her girl adored him, his wife clearly did not love him, that Socia could tell even without her abilities.

  But there was respect, an accord, and mutual love for their child.

  He was a gracious host, he kept the pageantry slight, allowed the Lady her peace, a chance to slip her mask, yet not cast it away.

  She even laughed once when they conversed.

  Laughter? Her?

  Yet there were no touches, only glasses clinking.

  And his eyes were deep like hers.

  And at times his gaze lingered.

  Too long.

  His jovial smile fell a bit; his motions became subdued.

  It was not the look men had when they yearned for a woman, the way the man she had danced with had yearned for Socia.

  It was something else.

  There was dancing also, and entertainment, and cake of course, Socia took pleasure in it, but from time to time her eyes would stray.

  And she caught him watching her Lady.

  And her Lady, too, at times did the same, a look she gave him, one too long.

  And before they left, to rest for the night, a kiss he gave to Socia’s hand in the way of a proper man.

  A vision she saw of the one he loved most.

  To no surprise it was his child, her smile and giggles in his mind, her life and joy in his heart, her eyes so blue ever present, like waters of the frozen sea.

  But there was another pair of eyes, another love they talked about.

  Of love given that does not demand.

  That looked upon him the same way, his little girl he beheld every day.

  Eyes she knew very well.

  Deep and dark.

  It was… hers.

  And as they lay in their bed, grand and wide, in which they had space.

  And her body lay far away.

  Socia spoke some words.

  “He is your son, is he not?”

  Her Lady turned, and her eyes they told.

  Yes.

  There were no more words that night, only that they stayed close all night.

  Bodies intertwined, for solace, not delight.

  As her Lady fell asleep, a final truth appeared.

  In her mind she knew.

  One of many.