Winter's First Verse

Releasing 11/22/26 digital and 12/1/26 print!

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Chapter One

Vil

The crack. The scream. The guilt… Vil's first memories remained excruciatingly vivid over thirty five years later. His cousin calling for him to slow down as he sped along an icy path. Him spinning around as she shrieked, having slipped on a frost-coated stone he’d leaped over. The snap of breaking bone as Vanya hit the rocks beside the walkway, a sound the grownups later swore he couldn’t possibly have heard. And, half a heartbeat later, the most gut-wrenching howl to ever reach Vil’s ears etching itself forever into his soul.

Even though he rushed to Vanya’s side, he couldn't stop her crying or heal her broken arm. The best he could do was tell her he loved her and everything would be alright. And wait for the adults to sweep in with medical attention and candy while he drowned in self-loathing.

A few days later, in Vil's second oldest memory, a kid at school made fun of Vanya for being an icekin that got injured on ice. Decades afterwards, Vil could still feel the sensation of his fist slamming into that kid’s face as he earned his first suspension. Maybe he couldn’t protect his cousin from physics but he could rotting well protect her from their classmates’ cruelty.

As Vanya hurt now, no elders seemed likely to pop in and fix everything. And Vil was too old to get away with pummeling the incineration out of the people behind it. He couldn't mend her broken heart any more than he could have set her broken arm, so he’d need to distract her from the pain while she healed herself.

Already distracted, Vanya gawked inward from the porch of the house he’d given her. Or loaned her… He didn’t know how long she’d be staying in Niaretya, but the house was hers for however long she needed it and he’d sign it over all nice and legal-like if she’d let him. All she needed to do was come inside and tell him she accepted it.

As someone up the commonway cheered, “Yskies rise!” before ringing a celebratory hand-bell while a group in the other direction launched into an uncoordinated rendition of the old Ysk national anthem, Vanya’s hands waved in a rough outline of Vil’s form. Bouncing under the scrutiny, he smiled and waited to see if she’d issue a verbal comment on his recent changes. Since the last time they saw each other, he’d experienced one of history’s most notable first kisses. Within seconds of it, his skin had taken on the appearance of a snowy texture, his horns had grown both taller and wider, and he’d developed a second pair of horns that were already about a quarter the size of his old ones. But he hadn’t sprouted wings like his fiancée Maggie had, so the alterations could have been more dramatic.

Always one to get to the point as quickly as possible, Vanya stomped in, kicked the door shut behind her, and stared at him in the sudden quiet. “You look like an animated ice sculpture. Spill.”

“Hi, Vanya,” Vil replied with deliberately obnoxious cheer. Feeling a smooch punch-drunk from only having a few scattered naps over the last day and a half, he vibrated more than usual and couldn’t stop grinning. Although extreme happiness could also explain the symptoms. At least he wasn’t drunk-drunk like most of the town appeared to be. “Nice to see you, Vanya. Welcome home. Want some tea?”

Vanya snorted and shed her coat, a trendy synthfur duster a few shades darker than her bright azure hair. “Fine. Niceties then explanations. And thank you for giving me a place to live. Bex’s apartment was fine for last night, but I never want to sleep on that lounger again.”

Vil laughed as he hugged his only first cousin. The circumstances of her return home were far from ideal, but curse him if seeing her again didn’t lift his already buoyant spirits. He kissed the tip of one of her crystal horns and told her, “Missed you, Vani-ni.”

“Missed you too, Villy-illy.” Her barely-blue face held an artificial stillness as she let go and sat to remove her boots. The snowflakes in her ice-blue eyes, ones identical his own, swirled in pained chaos. “So, people are toasting your boyfriend at the Rabbit but he’s in hiding and you’re here? In a house you assure me you’re not living in anymore?”

“Call it keeping a low profile.” He’d offered to take Yuri to the pub, but the newly elevated duke had said he preferred a private celebration of his deeds. “Won’t keep you here long if want to go back to the party. In fact, should get back to the new house soon to make dinner for when Yuri and Maggie wake up from napping. But wanted to make sure the lock still knows you.”

“Just opened the door, so established that already.” She stood and looked towards the kitchen. “Am I making the tea or you? You say it’s my place now, but I literally just walked in.”

“Haven’t moved most my tea out yet, so guess should make it for you.” A buzzing sensation in his hands ramped up as he laughed.

“Good. Because I didn’t bring any with me. I’m hoping you have plenty of caffeinated options. Helping Bex has me pretty wiped but I’ll probably do more of it later. She’s absolutely swarmed.” Vanya followed him to the kitchen and opened the tea cupboard to peruse its contents as he filled the kettle and started it heating.

A pinch on Vil’s wrist from his powersharer told him the kettle activation required borrowing Yuri’s elven magic. He supposed he needed to tell Vanya about being too elemental to use basic appliances on his own but it could wait. “Don’t seem to have brought anything with you.”

“Stuff’s still in the flier.” Vanya winced as the sentence completed. “You don’t need to move it for me. I’ll rent a hover-dolly to bring it from the dock tomorrow. On my own.”

“Or Maggie can teleport it for you whenever ask. Could have brought it and you all the way from Maer, but didn’t realize it until yesterday.” He let that sink in, smirking as Vanya’s eyes widened.

“So she is the dragon? For real?”

“Is.”

Vanya nodded like she found it perfectly reasonable for him to be dating a dragon. Wait… Did she know he was dating Maggie? Her next words clarified that. “Bex thinks you and Maggie are together now.”

“Are.” He grinned and lifted his hands palm-upward to cheer the development.

“And Maggie’s a dragon,” Vanya drew out slowly, her swift mind clearly in motion while Vil twitched with the effort of not telling her the rest of his news. “Do the two of you have a matebond? Has it enhanced your elemental powers? Is that why you suddenly look like you’re carved from actual ice? How does Yuri fit in?”

His grin stretched far enough he worried he’d be sore later. “Yes. Yes. Yes. And we both have matebonds with him too.”

“Oh.” A sappy smile overtook Vanya’s face. “That’s really sweet.”

He nodded so enthusiastically he needed to rub his neck afterward. “Is.”

Vanya turned away to regard the tea again, but not before he saw a crest of pain shutter her expression. “You seem more elemental than elekin. I know someone who’d love to enroll you in a study.”

“Sure plenty of people would,” he acknowledged. He moved to stand next to Van. “Need help selecting?”

“Not picky. You chose.”

He took down an autumn spice blend that would go well with the last of the sweet cream in the coldcab and drummed a rapid tattoo on the tin. “Also got engaged.”

“Engaged?” Vanya repeated, stunned. He turned to find her blinking rapidly. “To both of them?”

He huffed at the question. “Yes.”

Shaking her head at his announcement, Vanya smiled again. “Engaged. To a duke and a dragon. Spite, Vil, that’s wild!”

“Right? Still trying to figure out how it happened. And hoping they don’t suddenly come to their senses and call it off.” That held more truth than he’d like. It felt like an unrealistic overabundance of good fortune for things to proceed as planned, for him to have a life filled with loving two amazing people who adored him as much as he adored them. How had he earned a right to that?

“When’s the ceremony?” Vanya asked, breaking him out of his building insecurities.

“Winter Solstice.” He paused for the predictable exclamation that was too soon. It was a short wait.

“This year? That’s too soon, Vil. Normal people take a year or more to plan a devotion ceremony. And Yuri’s a rotting noble!”

“Not going to be a noble ceremony,” Vil assured her when he’d finished laughing at her reaction. “Just a few close friends and relatives in the Rabbit. Not a big scene.”

“Still… Is a lot.” Vanya wrapped an arm around his. “Really am happy for you. Don’t mean to sound otherwise. Just, you know me. I hear something and go straight into planning mode. I assume Bex is serving as Guide, though?”

“Hopefully? Haven’t actually asked yet. Just got engaged a few hours ago. But…” He put his hands on Vanya’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Nastravanya Narerial Veyndgraf, will you stand as my escort?”

She pulled back, as though it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d want her at his side for what would be, in many people’s reckoning, the most important day of his life. “Really? You want me? Not Uncle Kelsen?”

“Even if preferred him, which don’t, can imagine the drama from Pop and Father if picked Dad?” With an exaggerated shudder, Vil tried to minimize his complex feelings about his fathers’ divorce. “Would be better off asking your mom than my dad.”

“And Mom isn’t capable.” Vanya clasped her hands and sighed in mock-sadness. “Poor woman has wept through every important event in either of our lives. And most of Bex’s.”

“Exactly. Would never get the lines read. Not coherently. Has to be you.” He gave her the hopeful half-smile that always made her sigh but do what he wanted.

The snow in her eyes held extra glitter as it swirled. “It will be my honor.”

Whooping, he swept her into a spinning hug that had her breathless with laughter. He stopped twirling her, but held her with her feet dangling over the tops of his. “Thank you. Love you, know?”

“Love you too,” she said. Immediately before repeatedly, though lightly, kicking his shins. “Now put me down, you oaf!”

Bex

Young Bex formed her earliest memory peaking out from behind her great-aunt to watch the Veyndgraf cousins playing in the beer garden of the Mountain Rabbit Pub. Immediately, she issued a loud and insistent demand to know why there were other children at her bar. Because even at age four, decades before she bought the establishment from her elder, she’d felt ownership over the place. A calm smile had overcome Vil’s snow-colored face as the icekin informed her, “Is okay. Are your cousins.”

They were not Bex’s cousins and everyone had known it. But they ran with the pretense. Nearly four decades later, they were still running with it in a lot of ways.

Bex flashed back to that first meeting as Vil smiled at her from across the Rabbit early in the morning the day after what people were calling Democracy Day. She groaned as she unhooked her pet vatkoa’s leash while the creature trilled on her shoulder. “Olly wants to know what are doing in my pub, ja.”

He held up a broom. “Helping?”

Sometimes Bex regretted reading Vil into the locks. The sky outside still draped over the town in a darker shade of blue than Bex’s navy skin, yet he’d clearly been occupied for some time. “Weren’t even at the party but are here before dawn cleaning up after it?”

“Dawn’s pretty late this time of year,” Vil pointed out as he resumed sweeping her floor. He’d already cleared all the surfaces and stacked the chairs off the ground, which Bex hadn’t been granted the time for when the guardians shut her down the previous night.

Knowing she had no hope of getting her best friend to cease and return home, Bex jostled her arm to inspire Olly to move from her perch. The vatkoa cawed, smacked Bex in the back with her thick otter-like tail, and flew up to the rafters on raven wings to supervise recovery efforts while Bex shucked her heavy coat. A collar button caught a tangle of her cobalt hair and she winced as she took down her sloppy bun to escape the situation before stuffing the cobalt mess into a new one.

The night before, Bex had been forced to go home without the usual closing activities. Guardian Percy, citing an ordinance she’d never enforced in the past, had insisted everyone, even Bex, vacate the building at precisely seventeen fifty. The law enforcement officer had insisted it remain vacated until after New Day, which was the sole reason Bex had gone back to her apartment for a few hours of unconsciousness. From the current state of the place, she could tell Vil had violated the order.

“You should be at home,” Bex stated as she went to activate the self-filling mop bucket. “Your boyfriend just handed us a democracy. And your girlfriend seems to have helped him. Should be showing them how grateful the province is.”

“Have done plenty of that. What they need now is sleep.”

She snorted. “And you don’t?”

“Nah. Slept through Yuri dealing with the Assembly and need less rest than Maggie. And before say, know don’t have to help. Want to.” He ushered the last swath of dirt into the incinerating pan and took the broom back to the supply closet before returning with more to convey. “And need a favor from you, so am about to owe you big time.”

“Assuming do the favor for you.”

“Assuming.”

Watching him come lean against the bar while she plunged the mop into its bucket, she tried to guess what he needed while not fixating on his skin’s unsettling new appearance. It had always been reminiscent of snow, but now it held the texture of snow rather than merely its coloring. Vanya had warned Bex about it after returning the to the Rabbit following her meeting with him at the house, but it took Bex seeing her friend for her to truly understand his transformation. Even his horns seemed more frozen in addition to being larger and more numerous, although she couldn’t peg what made her think that. Under the impression Vil wanted to pretend the changes were somehow normal, she refrained from asking why he wasn’t freaking out about them. “Want to book a private party to celebrate Yuri’s vote without exposing him to random members of the public?”

“No… But close.”

Bex raised an eyebrow and waved her hand in a ‘keep going’ circle. The night before, her fingernails had been tipped with silver to match the sparkly inclusions in her curling horns, but most of it had chipped off. “Vanya says you have matebonds with Maggie and Yuri now. Said is why you look different. Want a party for that?”

“So close.” A teasing half-smile appeared as the snowflakes in his pale eyes burst into enthusiastic dancing. “Vanya mentioned the matebond but nothing else?”

“No. Was busy enough in here barely had time to listen to that much.”

“Understandable. Cleared a dozen incineration bin loads before you got here.”

That made sense. While Bex didn’t serve food, she let people bring it in and the amount of snack debris she’d been forced to abandon had not been slight.

Vil nodded to himself. “So didn’t mention asked her to be my escort at my devotion ceremony?”

Devotion ceremony? Narrowing her eyes on her friend, Bex tried to judge how serious he was. He grinned, bouncing on on the balls of his feet and radiating excitement. Very serious then. “Rot. Got engaged?”

He nodded rapidly, bouncing faster. “Will you be our Guide?”

“Ceremony Guide?” Bex’s lips parted as she stared at him. But then she started to smile too. “Of course.”

It wasn’t until after he’d caught her in a hug and she’d laughed out congratulations and a healthy dose of I-told-you-so over Maggie being loopy for him that it occurred to her to request details. “When doing this thing?”

“Winter Solstice.”

Going completely still, Bex resumed staring. “This Winter Solstice?”

“Know is soon,” Vil said quickly. “Yuri’s scared someone’s going to figure out he cares about us and try to hurt us before we qualify for spousal protections.”

“Hurt you?” Bex couldn’t deny there being those who were displeased by Yuri’s existence. Some hated his vote; an Establishment Party stooge on the viewer had described him as a class traitor. And others hated his title; several hotheads on Bex’s Yskie ethercircle were making noises that Yskereen didn’t need a duke, even a charismatic one trying his best to limit his own power. And if the engagement were announced, she could too easily imagine people taking their loathing out on Yuri’s beloveds. But still… incredulity outweighed worry. “Maggie’s a rotting dragon. And you could freeze a person to death before these matebonds boosted your snowiness.”

“Yes,” Vil admitted with a wince. “But is some amount of precedence for concern. Remember that guy the spring I won my first Thorn Cup who was engaged to that viscountess and nearly got whacked for it? And think Yuri’s already getting personal threats. If not, will get them soon enough. Can’t blame him for worrying.”

“The Solstice is only a verse away, Vil.”

“Longer. Is thirty-two days, not twenty-eight.” With one of his half-smiles, he grabbed her hands and held tight. “Know am asking a lot. But will be small. Just a few dozen people here at the Rabbit.”

Softening, she glanced around the room. “So less intense than what hosted on no notice yesterday…”

“By a lot.”

A sigh later, she shook her head. “Know weddings have a tendency to balloon, yesno?”

“But takes time!” He grinned and held his arms out. “Will be over too fast to balloon!”

“Yeah, right.” Bex held the mop out to him. “Changed my mind. You do owe me labor.”

“Are doing it then?” he verified. “Can hire someone to help. Is a lot on short notice and in the middle of tourist season…”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course am doing it. Now stop insulting me and get to mopping.”

Vanya

Vanya’s first memory centered on watching Vil wail into someone who had made her cry. While as an adult she recognized one should never cheer physical assault, as a kid Vil hitting that bully had solidified her view of her cousin as her personal hero. But when he was the one who’d needed protection from bullying, she’d failed him. For years, she’d let their grandmother attack him, assuming The Elder wasn’t capable of doing actual harm. Only now that he was too emotionally battered to continue being abused had Vanya finally found the gumption to intervene.

She struggled to explain her spontaneous relocation to her friend Pawllian though. Pawls was another researcher from the facility Vanya had just walked away from and couldn’t wrap her head around why the family drama had brought Vanya home. Pawls had called Vanya’s slate during her lunch break after learning Vanya had quit when she arrived at work that morning. Van had left town in too big a hurry for goodbyes.

“I’m sorry,” Pawllian told her over live-image etherchat. “It sounds to me like you left a prestigious research team at a top university to run a teashop because your cousin was bored of it. And that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Not fair, Pawls. First off, he wasn’t bored. He’s legitimately burnt out, largely from dealing with our emotionally abusive grandmother. And if you’d ever met the poisonous stinkmole, you’d understand.” Vanya shook her head as she thought back to the conversation where Vil had asked her to take the shop, the one where he finally opened up with an honest vulnerability she didn’t think he’d shared even with his fiancées. “And if someone you loved asked you for help in the broken voice Vil used to ask me… I think you’d have agreed too.”

“Whatever.” On Vanya’s slate, the image of her former colleague waved dismissively, donning an angled sneer that did no favors to her wide, crooked mouth. With her swamp green coloring, she suddenly reminded Vanya of the snobby frog from that kids show her ex’s nibling was always watching. “Does it matter why he spiting quit? My point is that you have an Authority Degree in Interdimensional Magics. Why are you wasting your time selling tea? You could have found another way to help Cousin Emo.”

The part of Vanya that had been raised by Aunt Nara promptly issued a retaliatory snarl. “Tea is important! It’s comforting! It makes people feel better when they’re ill. Or sad. It warms them up! Wakes them in the morning and helps them sleep at night! And a community’s teashop is a cornerstone! It’s-”

“Sorry! Yeesh. I didn’t realize tea was your religion!” Pawllian signed an urgent plea for her to calm down. “You’re right. Tea is great. This mug right here is full of tea and I wouldn’t make it through the morning without three of them. And if all the teashops in Maer shut down, I’d be seriously distraught.”

“Thank you. The Yetsona is the only one in Niaretya, so you see why it needs to keep going.” Forcing herself to relax, Vanya leaned back in her chair. Or Vil’s chair. The triad hadn’t moved much out yet, although they were working on it in scattered sprints. Every few minutes for the last hour, something had poofed away as Maggie relocated it to the new place. She seemed focused on Vil’s board game collection at the moment and had promised not to move any furniture without forewarning, so Vanya should be safe from unexpected falls to the ground. Meanwhile, Vanya’s belongings were mostly upstairs in her new room waiting for Vanya to have the inspiration to unpack them.

“So moving on from why Cousin Thingy-ma-jiggy-”

“Vil.”

“Whatever. You know that as an Ice Trolls fan I will never accept having a friend who’s related to a member of the Vliketla Vsharae, not even a retired one. Yuck!”

“Anyway,” Vanya continued, drawing out the word. She hesitated, but then admitted something she hadn’t talked about much. “You can’t blame Vil. Because I intended to leave the uni regardless.”

“What? Why would you quit?” At Vanya’s flat look, Pawllian left the screen for a moment before returning. “Sorry. Wanted to make sure the door was closed all the way in case you say something you can’t take back.”

“I already put in a letter explaining why I quit. It’s done.”

“I don’t get it.” Pawllian waved her hand at Vanya’s expression. “Yeah, okay. Keechi promoting Nashov over you was inane and insulting. But surely it wasn’t enough to abandon your career over?”

“Of course not. But it was enough for me to realize that the rampant racism in our field is too deeply ingrained at U of Maer for me to stay.”

Like expected, the elf on the other end of the conversation looked mystified. As she opened her mouth to say something that would at best sound tone deaf, Vanya cut her off with a chop of her hand. “When I asked Keechi if Nashov being an elf was part of the equation, the spiting rotter admitted it.”

“Really? How did he word it?” The skepticism was, of course, part of the problem. If Vanya’s friends doubted her word when she told them someone had discriminated against her based on her being elekin, then what chance did she have of convincing society in general?

With a glower, Vanya relayed her former boss’s exact words. “To quote, ‘I couldn’t give such a high profile position to an elekin. You know that, Vanya.’ And when I called him a coward and a racist, he claimed he’s merely a realist.”

“Oh.” Jaw slack and eyes appalled, Pawllian appeared to be at a rare loss for words.

“Yeah, oh.”

“Should I quit in solidarity?”

Vanya let out a long breath. How was it fair to ask her to make that decision? “That’s up to you.”

“Yeah…” Nodding to herself, Pawllian hummed in a way that clearly announced she’d be staying put. “I’ll think about it. But… That explains why you left the school. And I’m glad you finally realized you’re better off without Reska and Miles. But skipping the entire city? I know you. You need variety and anonymity. You need options on where to eat, how to entertain yourself…”

“I enjoy cities, yes.” It was safe enough to admit that. “But I’m more anonymous in Vliketla. It has a larger icekin community than any other major city. And I could be anywhere downtown from here in under an hour.”

“If the extremists keep the portals running?”

Vanya shrugged. “Yskies got what they wanted yesterday. And don’t act like it won’t benefit you. Maer is just as much a part of Yskereen Province as Vliketla is.”

“The voting rights will be nice,” Pawllian admitted. “But the disruptions hurt everyone. I hope you’re right that they’re done with those.”

To be honest, Vanya wasn’t certain. The immediate goal had been to force the federal Assembly to grant Yskereen democratic representation in both local and federal government. And that measure had passed. But it did so by one vote, the vote of someone with far more power over Yskereen than any Yskie could possibly be comfortable with. Vanya felt willing to give the new duke a chance, which was good for family harmony since Vil intended to marry the guy, but if it turned out Yuri needed persuading, the activist movement already had the infrastructure to pressure him and wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

“Also!” Pawls thrust her palms towards the screen. “You hate snow! Why would you move to ski resort, aj?”

“I used to love it?” Vanya hugged herself against an urge to run to the window to see if it was snowing again. She didn’t want to know. Truth was, she still loved snow. But she’d been avoiding it for years due to an extreme terror of being buried alive in it. She’d never admitted the fear to anyone, but it festered deep inside, unshakable and unresponsive to logic. And it would pose a serious problem living in Niaretya. “I want to learn how to do that again.”

“Okay, fine. But there are mountains just outside Maer, too. What’s wrong with our mountains? Other than not having enough elekin in them?”

The harshness of the second question took Vanya aback, curdling her stomach and inspiring her to end the call.

She toggled the nearest window from opaque to transparent, saw that it was dumping snow outside, and reset the glass. Then she filled the soaking tub and sat in it until she pruned.

The Brewer's Interlude
Cyryllon

Cyryllon spent two hundred and eighty years talking to his beloved Koroli every day. Her passing away hadn’t inspired the foxkin brewer to stop, although he did try not to speak to her when other people were around. While he knew full well that she died seven years ago and he wasn’t really having a conversation with anyone existing outside his imagination, he didn’t trust his community to believe him if they’d caught him telling his late wife about his day and responding as though she’d asked questions. And he wouldn’t even be able to be upset with them because when his and Kori’s wife Aestra had kept talking to Kori after the Janald virus took her, Cy had never been certain if Aestra realized it was make-believe or not. Not that he’d had long to wonder. The next mutated surge of the deadly magic-resistant terror had stolen Aestra from him as well. If it hadn’t been cured shortly following that, he would likely have joined his devoteds by now.

Late First Day, Cyryllon regarded the work left to do around his brewery and informed his dead wife, “Wishing for more help isn’t going to make any magically appear.”

“No,” he replied to a question no one was living to ask. “Can’t call any of the young ones in. The portal’s still down from the magic surge, so Pesh is locked out. Emrys’s little Geshan hasn’t kicked zir fever yet. And is Maggie’s Rest Stanza.”

He could easily imagine the expression Kori would have greeted the last part with and he sighed in response to it. “Know Maggie’s been out since the storm so is arguably taking back-to-back rests. But if what we saw on the viewer is what I think we saw...”

Secure in the knowledge the all-day news channel would still be talking about Duke Tseyuriel and his dragon compatriot, Cy flipped on the viewer in the break area and sagged onto the lounger for a much needed rest. If he tried, he could feel Kori draw his gray and silver tail into her lap and begin to groom it. She’d loved doing that. He never figured out why.

“And there’s my apprentice,” Cy declared, watching yet again as a majestic dragon rose over Heart’s Palace to urge the Superior Chamber to vote in democracy for Yskereen. “Know are calling her Yslania, dear. My hearing charms are covered in fur but work just fine.”

And, yeah, it was possible Yslania wasn’t Maggie. The shared coloring could be a coincidence. After all, Yslania had flown into the capital and deliberately seized the entire world’s attention. Meanwhile Maggie got nervous if a single person she didn’t know glanced anywhere near her.

But Maggie had sent him a lovely paper note the night before the vote saying she was busy with something massive and vitally important. And she was deeply in love with the guy who’d led the affirmation faction.

Across the room, Cy’s slate began to sing for attention. If it had been almost anyone else, he’d have declared the device too far away to bother about. But it sang his youngest granddaughter’s song so he forced himself up and hobbled over to it. Why did he have to feel so old all of a sudden? He still had work to do before he went home but his body kept attempting to lock up on him. It was probably for the best that Kiyli had given him a reason to move.

He answered the visual hail, telling her to hold on while he set up at his desk. Propping the slate against a stack of recipe books, he smiled for his daughter’s only child as she wiggled her dusty rose ears in excitement. “Ahoy, there, Kiyli-byli! What so happy about?”

“Could be happy to talk to you,” she suggested. “I like talking to you, you know.”

“Do know.” Unlike any of his other descendants, Kiyli made a point of initiating an etherchat with him every other stanza. This one was out of cycle though. “But usually aren’t this happy to call me. Are vibrating, bit-ling.”

“You got me. But you are the first person I’m telling about this who isn’t involved, so let that mean something, okay?” She paused for him to signal a promise that he would. “Your granddaughter has been offered history’s first exclusive interview with the thirty-seventh Duke of Yskereen.”

Cy did his best to keep his smile in place and hoped Kiyli wouldn’t pick on any hesitation in his voice. “Is great news! Congratulations!”

A modest droop in Kiyli’s expressive ears testified that he’d been insufficiently enthusiastic. “I know what you’re worried about. But Vil called me to make the offer. And I intend it to be a positive piece. I’m not going in planning to tear down the current hero of Yskereen. Not unless he really deserves it.”

“If you think he does deserve it, perhaps you might simply not publish anything?”

Kiyli winced. “I’m not sure I have that in me, Gran-Cy. But… Tseyuriel’s the Yuri person you’ve been telling me Vil’s dizzy over, yesno? Vil wouldn’t love someone horrible.”

“Is that person, yes. And, yeah, Yuri’s a good kid.” So was Vil, though, and that hadn’t stopped Kiyli from selling a hit piece on him, a vicious tale full of misinformation and inaccurate assumptions that most of Niaretya still felt she should be sued over. If not executed. “Just be careful? For Vil to trust you with this is a big deal.”

“I recognize that.” Pulling her tail around her body, Kiyli stroked it for comfort. It reminded Cy of the tiny child his devotion had adopted when her mother proved herself incapable of proper parenting. Back then, Kiyli had brushed her fur so often she’d developed bald spots.

“Hey, Little-Bit? Love you, alright?”

She tried to smile. “Love you too.”

“Good.” He thought for a moment, wishing Kori were with him for real. She’d know what to say to their young one. “Don’t suppose the interview is in person? And in Niaretya? Would love to show you my new house. Maybe buy you dinner somewhere. Oklan’s if you want.”

“Oklan’s?” Kiyli laughed. “Still a little fancy for me. I’ll take milkshakes at the Snowdrop over snooty bisque at Oklan’s any day of the verse.”

“Alright. Milkshakes and pie then.”

“I wish…” Kiyli’s fingers moved into a sign of regret. “But they offered over-ether and I’m not comfortable asking if teleportation is an option. Not sure I’d want to teleport anyway…”

“Doubt is much worse than portaling places. Although might be more like gating.” He paused as he realized Kiyli had never crossed a world gate. “Gating’s hard to explain. Sort of like portaling but while high on three different drugs, two of which distort time in opposite directions.”

With a dramatic shudder, Kiyli whimpered. “No thanks. I’m good with ferries.”

“Don’t know for sure is like that,” Cy pointed out. “Should ask Yuri. Has done both.”

“Actually not a bad suggestion. None of the others are talking about it, though. They’re all citing a respect for the dragon’s privacy.”

“Ah. Well, Yuri’s going to protect her for sure. Especially if is who think is.”

Kiyli’s ears jumped to attention. “You know who she is? Like when she’s an elf?”

“Little-Bit? If wanted people talking about her elven identity, wouldn’t have taken an obvious alias.”

“Is it obvious? I mean, yeah, using the Yskern word for ‘snowflake’ feels a little on target for a being with ice powers and it’s not traditionally considered a name, but I could see an icekin born in the last fifty years being given it.”

“Maybe am wrong about who is then.” Fairly certain he wasn’t, Cy shrugged and signed it was possible. “Look forward to reading your story. Maybe if the Duke likes it you can leverage that into an in-depth piece that will involve visiting your hometown?”

“Visiting my granddaddy, you mean?” She held up her hands in the circle that indicated familial love. “Would actually really like that excuse. Especially if my granddaddy wanted to take me skiing. I’ve been missing the snow.”

“If transferred to the Vliketla Diary, could take you skiing anytime want,” he teased, knowing she’d never accept what she’d see as a demotion to a regional paper when she was getting prime assignments at a internationally respected one.

Kiyli shook her head. “Or can continue being nationally distributed…”

“Start writing for the Imperial Mirror and do one of their deep-dives into hyper-local matters. Have them embed you back home for a year while they pay you to research the place you grew up. Then see what global distribution feels like when they translate it into a dozen languages.”

“There’s a plan!” Laughing, she clapped but soon switched to shaking her head. “Much as I love that idea, I need to start writing up questions so I can run them by my editor before he goes to bed. Post me if you come up with anything you think the world in general should know about Duke Tseyuriel so I can see about sliding that in somewhere.”

“Absolutely. Call me when are done and let me know how went?”

“Will do. Love you, Gran-Cy. Little-Bit out!”

The slate went blank and Cy leaned back in his chair. “What think, Kori? Aestra? Is our girlie doing as well as keeps claiming?”

He sighed at the pretend responses. “Yeah. Am worried about her too.”

The viewer was still showing images of Yslania, paused now as she spiraled over the big lake behind Chamber House. Cy kept a partial eye on it as he posted Maggie.“No worries if the answer is no, but could really use help sanitizing the secondary fermentation tank. Any chance can come in?”

A moment later, Maggie walked through the door and Cy raised his eyebrows at her. “Not buying that were standing right outside when got that.”

“Wasn’t,” she admitted. Then stood still, saying nothing.

It took a few seconds for Cy to fully understand why she posed for him. Slowly, like she worried she’d startle him, she stretched out a pair of wings he recognized from the viewer. These were smaller, of course, or she wouldn’t be able to extend them in the space available, but were otherwise identical. The glitter effect of the pale purple, frost-laced insides was stronger in real life and the wings’ dark violet edges and backs held an iridescence the viewer completely failed to convey. “Those new limbs are nicer in person. And the scales give your skin a nice shine.”

“Figured you’d figured out that’s me already…” She dipped her head towards the viewer, allowing the light to catch on tiny, dark amethyst-tipped horns. “But, if didn’t… Surprise!”

He chuckled. “Had. And didn’t tell my reporter grandkid about it.”

“Yeah…” The wings folded and pulled around her shoulders as she hugged herself with them. “Not looking forward to the entire world figuring it out.”

“Seems to me that if a dragon doesn’t want to be recognized in elven form, it likely behooves the observer not to let on that the recognition occurred. Seems like screaming, ‘That’s the dragon!’ would be a good way to get on a dragon’s bad side. And who wants that?”

“Hope you’re right.”

Wanting to cheer her up, Cy swerved into another scene. “So… You and Yuri… And Vil..?”

A grin took over Maggie’s face and her wings began to flutter. “You were right.”

“Me? Right about something? Astonishing! We should hold a séance to inform my dearly departed devoteds that it finally happened. Wish they’d lived to see it.”

The dragon rolled her eyes at the joke. “Look, I already admitted you told me so. Don’t hunt for more.”

He spread his hands. “Didn’t say what were right about. Care to specify before I flip to conclusions shouldn’t?”

Maggie brought her hands down her chest to indicate full disclosure. “You were correct that I am in love with Vil and Yuri. And that they are in love with me. And that I should let go of ‘oughts’ that don’t align with my desires and current values.”

“Glad all is clear. Want something to celebrate with?”

“As long as it’s one round and then we clean things.”

Signaling acceptance of her terms, Cy went to the cool-cave and selected an imported barrel-aged dark ale to split. While he poured, Maggie kept moving her wings around. He couldn’t tell if that stemmed from her still getting used to them or if she had more to tell him. He took a guess. “Am I also correct in surmising that the icy horns and pretty frosted effect now covering your inner wings are related to that blizzard we just had? And possibly to a very sweet hockey-playing icekin we happen to know?”

“Uh… Yeah. Correct on both counts.” She beamed widely. “I’m not just in love with Vil and Yuri. I have matebonds tying me to them. And can channel their powers.”

“Like with the translating you picked up from Yuri early on?”

She squinted through eyes that he now noticed had new inclusions of green in them, probably trying to remember if she’d told him about that or not. “Yeah. Like that.”

He nodded. “And those are horns attempting to stand out from your hair, yesno?”

Self-consciously, Maggie combed through her poofy hair, showing off two translucent twists. She moved her fingers up them with a mystified smile. “Yeah. They feel weird.”

“Imagine so. Assume the wings don’t feel normal yet either.” Handing over her beer, Cy waved her to the sitting area and lowered himself into a chair there. “Although have yet to spontaneously grow a body part myself.”

“It really hurt,” she said softly as she sat near him. “But didn’t last long. Although the horns are still sore. Vil suspects they’ll be like that for a while. Thinks they quick-started themselves but will continue growing. And he’s got a new second pair doing the same thing.”

“Sounds like a lot has changed in a very short period of time,” Cy observed slowly, studying his apprentice. “How are you lot holding up?”

“Eventually all of it’s going to catch up with us. But right now I think we’re all too happy to process much.” Holding up her dominant hand, she wrapped the opposite hand around its wrist. “And we’re engaged.”

He felt a huge smile spread over his face to echo the one on Maggie’s. “Is wonderful. Hope will invite me to the celebration so can tell everyone was my idea before was yours.”

“Don’t remember you saying to devote to them,” she replied.

“Was implied.”

Laughing, she raised a pinkie for him. “Alright. Will go along with that. And certainly want you at the celebration. But…”

A sudden tremble of nervousness spread down Maggie’s wings. “But?” he prompted gently.

“My mothers are on Erfaereen. And they’re the only family I’ve ever known.” With her eyes on her ale, Maggie continued to exude tension while Cy rushed to get ahead of what she was saying in order to figure out what had her discombobulated. Distress her parents wouldn’t be at the ceremony made sense, but he couldn’t make the leap to why it frightened her. “And the others say there are usually family members involved in the ceremony…”

His heart cracked for her as understanding struck. “And you’re wondering who will escort you?”

Teary-eyed, she nodded. “I don’t even know what escorts do here. Back home, the father of the bride walks her down the aisle. You know, when there is a bride. And the families are asked for their blessings but don’t usually do much.”

“It’s similar but a little more involved,” he explained. “The escort is typically a relative, but sometimes a close friend. They get to say a little speech introducing their participant and a second one encouraging the vows. Might make a toast at the celebration.”

“So, not always a blood relative?”

“Frequently not.”

Her body tensed before she took a breath and met his gaze through a curtain of unshed tears. “You’re the closest thing I have to family here, Cy. Would you be my escort?”

His eyes also misted up as he put his beer down and went to hug his apprentice. “Yes. Of course. As far as am concerned, you need a grandfather and I like to think am a decent one. So if let me, would love to be your granddad.”

She sniffled. “When I wrote my moms about you, I told them I felt like you’d adopted me as a granddaughter.”

“Then let’s say did that.” He pat her head and dropped back a bit.

“I know you have grandkids already. But I always wanted an abuelo…”

He smiled at the Spanish word and moved to put his hands on her shoulders. “Will be honored to be your abuelo, mija.”

“Abuelo-Cy,” the imaginary version of Koroli whispered to Cy as he tucked himself into his lonely bed hours later. “Love that for you.”

“Abuela-Kori would have had a nice ring too.”

“In another lifetime, my love. In this one, take care of all of our younglings for me.”

“Always…”

He imagined the feel of her lips against his cheek while he lowered his head to his pillow and breathed deep of the sleepbloom he’d infused it with. “Good night, Kori. Good night, Aestra.” He curled under the blankets, pretending he could feel their weight laying beside him. “I love you both.”

Winter's First Verse occurs directly following The Harmony of Falling Snow. Although it has a self-contained plot, it will make more sense and be more meaningful for people who have read Harmony.

Length: 109,000 words