𝖑𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎. Return to the Republic

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𝖑𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎

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𝖑𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎. Return to the Republic


Maeve


(FOUR MONTHS LATER.)

MAEVE HAD HER PICK of days, but, in the end, the snow made the decision for her.

All the better. The choice was out of her hands. How long to stay, when to return to the Montfort capital ━ those questions disappeared when the weather turned. It was only six inches, barely a dusting for a place like the Paradise Valley, but more would follow. Maeve was told the winters here were much harsher than those she's used to, worse even than the one they weathered at the Notch. Here, the snowdrifts pile up ten feet deep; rivers freeze solid; blizzards last for days on end. Too perilous for transports or dropjets. Of course, they could stay for the season if they wanted. Dawson made it clear in his last communication that the cabin outpost was at their disposal as long as they needed, but Maeve didn't even broach the subject with the rest of her family. None of them, herself included, have any desire to spend the winter buried in snow with only the geysers and the bison for company.

Outside the cabin, Greyson makes a show of digging out the front door while their father supervises, leaning on his shovel. They spent all morning clearing a path through the snow to the dropjet landing field, and their faces are red beneath their scarves and hats. Archer helps their mother pack for the flight south, following her from room to room. She tosses clothes and he catches, folding them in the run. Emira and Maeve watch from the stone-walled kitchen, their things already packed away. They wear matching knobbly sweaters and curl around hot mugs for warmth. Emira's cup has cocoa thick as pudding and just as sweet. Though it smells divine, Maeve sticks to tea and honey. She's getting over a cold, and she doesn't want to return to Montfort with a scratchy throat.

Certainly, she'll have to make the rounds of speech and conversation once they arrive. While she's happy to go back to Ascendant, it means returning in time for the growing chaos of a gala with the alliance. And she'd rather do it at full strength.

Especially if Matt is there, she thinks, taking another boiling sip. The heat makes her shiver down to her toes.

Emira watches her shrewdly over her mug and stirs the cocoa with a spoon. Her lips curve into a smirk. "Counting down the seconds?" she asks, her voice low enough to not be overheard by the whirlwind in the next room.

"Yes," Maeve replies bluntly. "I'm already mourning the loss of some peace and quiet."

Emira licks the spoon clean and somehow gets a fleck of cocoa over her eyebrow. "Oh, please, you're going insane up here. Don't think I didn't notice the little bit of lightning swirling around with the snowstorm yesterday."

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