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The air as they climbed was brisk—sharp and thin, each breath tinged with the slightest tang of old magic. Riding next to Nox, Cedric pulled his cloak tighter around his face, his breath clouding with every exhale. Nox considered it lucky that winter had nearly arrived. Fewer folks on the trail. Fewer eyes. Not that many people appeared to make the trek up the Sacred Mountain at all these days, judging by the dwindling number of offerings lining the path—tributes left from pilgrimages past. And not that any of said people would make it to where the three of them were heading, even if there were.

“We couldn’t have waited to climb this bloomin’ mountain till the spring, eh?” Thraigg grumbled from Nox’s other side.

“I thought dwarves ran hot-blooded,” Nox replied. “Should the knightling provide a spot of sunfyre to keep you warm?”

Thraigg offered the nocterrian a rude gesture. “Bah. How is it yer not freezing yer horns off there, Noxie?”

“I do not feel the cold,” they said simply.

Cedric blinked at them. “Not at all?”

“Do shadows freeze? Do they overheat?” Nox gestured at Sid, curled in Cedric’s lap, napping contentedly despite the wind ripping down the trail. “I do not feel the cold,” they repeated with a shrug. Another thing that did not seem like it would be all that helpful to explain was how they felt very little at all.

At least, not until recently.

And that alone was something Nox found themself dwelling on more and more, with their final conversation with Kit before she had split from the group still lingering in their ears.

“You will take care on your way to Aerithia.” It was not a question.

“Don’t you get your horns in a twist over me, Tenebris Nox,” Kit replied, a sparkle in her blue and green eyes. “I’m a big girl, you know. Put on my breeches all by myself this morning and everything.”

“Color me impressed. And yet . . .”

Kit tilted her head to one side, the early-morning light catching on her moonbeam hair as she tightened the strap of the travel pack looped across her shoulder. “And yet . . . ?”

“I am unenthusiastic about this part of the plan.”

“The plan that has been in place since before we even left Kingshelm? Really?” She pursed her lips. “Granted, enthusiasm is not exactly something I’d expect from you in any circumstance, but I’ll bite. What’s changed? What’s giving you pause now?”

“Nothing has changed. It is just that I’ve realized this is the first occurrence in quite some time that you and I will be venturing down separate paths.” They hesitated. “I have become accustomed to your presence.”

She laughed lightly. “Such praise. I’ll miss you too, Tenebris.”

“It is not just that.”

A furrow of her brow. Another tilt of her head. But she didn’t speak.

“I find myself feeling . . . protective . . . over you. I like knowing where you are. I like being there too.”

The words slipped out, falling off Nox’s tongue as if they were hardly in control of it.

And Tenebris Nox was not used to feeling out of control.

Kit didn’t, at first. React, that was. At least, not in any discernible way. No, she looked at Nox with an unreadable expression that had another rarely experienced feeling stirring in the nocterrian’s gut: frustration.

They realized in that moment how much they relished the ease with which the fae typically displayed her feelings. Realized the comfort they had come to take in being able to read her so well. And thus, not being able to immediately tell what she was thinking was indeed frustrating.

Nox thought perhaps she might respond with a joke. Might play off the words with a self-deprecating remark. But after a miniature eternity, she simply smiled and said, “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to do my best to hurry back, then.” And with a flap of her silver-and-gold wings, Kit took to the sky, her rain-soaked rosemary scent trailing in her wake.

Thraigg’s gruff voice dragged Nox back to the present. “The cold’s addled my brain. Remind me what we’re to do once we get to the top of this bleedin’ mountain?”

“We aren’t headed to the top, actually. But once we get to where we are going, we shall request an audience,” Nox replied evenly, not quite sure if they appreciated the interruption to their thoughts. On the one hand, they should be preparing for the task ahead. Steeling themself to speak to Lord Noctis again, should he deign to answer their call. Readying their case—or Cedric’s case, at least—in asking the celestial for help.

On the other hand, the distraction that came with this strange new fixation, these otherwise foreign feelings, was rather nice. It was easier to replay that exchange with Kit, to dissect the inflection of words spoken, to pry meaning from the arch of her brow and the widening of her eyes. It helped keep the fear at bay.

Fear that, sadly, was indeed still something Nox was more than capable of feeling.

Cedric’s gaze ran ahead, up the narrowing path before them. “You truly believe Noctis will help us? Even if doing so means ending his sister’s banishment?”