Malik and Alexandria are bedecked in matching Oni silk robes and bear fur cloaks as they nibble on toast, with Malik lazily draped over Lexa’s athletic lap. She is a head and hand taller than him, even on the days he wears boots. The husband and wife duo are talking in a dear lover’s fashion as Matilda serves them ginger tea. Lussi’s black coffee from the Ifrit lands of bloodsoil and volcanic heat bubbles over a flame, and my maté from across the Iron Ocean from the continent of the southern Unktehi is tangy, spiced with cinnamon. The table sits under a veranda on the high walls of Lussi’s Ice Palace, overlooking the Bay of Seething. The pavilion is heated by geothermal pools that bubble up in waterfalls in quartz bowls in order to heat us. Salty drafts from the ocean breeze in. The glaciers unfurl like hills of milk, and the Northern Lights of Skahdi’s Bow still dance like thieves in the early morn across a pink sun.“S

“Lilith!” I cry out, awaking in my bed from the strangest of dreams. Lussi is watching me in bemusement, but there are molten glitter salt trails on his eyes – meaning he had one of his night terrors, from back when Eleleth used to torture him, in order to “fortify” his son. Lussi may sacrifice himself during Harrowings to Lady Lashtung in order to secure his kingship, but Eleleth preferred to sire a sacrificial, cursed scion on Rahab’s watery breast for the sole purpose of bearing the Harrowing for him.Lussi startles. “You speak of the Fates?”“We call them the Norns, in Laushtian.” I rub sleep grit from my eyes, unable to remember anything but the words “Unsung Hero”, “War,” and… and… and?The taste of lemons. No, it was, lips like limes. No, a peach tart! A madrigal kiss?“Ugh!” I cry out, stuffing my face into the pillows. “I hate dream

After what seems like an eternity of torture at Eleleth’s hands, we split apart, fully dressed and reformed, my violet fire having simmered down to a slow burn. Lussi kneels, sobbing.“I did not want you to see that. What have you done, Dia?” he cries. “Every Harrowing, you must now endure my travails.”I fiercely yank him up into my arms, and hold him so tight, around his waist and wings, I could break him with the gristle of my biceps. “What kind of godsdamned wife would I be to let you endure that alone?” I comb his flaxen hair, take a bit of rose oil from my pocket and rub it into his horns. He smiles softly as I wipe his tears away, wrapping his wings around us. “Lussi, my love, let’s go hunt the damned white hart.”We fly to Barri Woods, our marital birch grove where we met as blushing virgins on our wedding night. We scout the snow for tracks of the elusive white harts that live here. Lussi has h