Fadraiye, as a continent, was generally devoid of magic save for the use of certain gems. The appearance of The Stormveil made it evident to scholars that there was far more to our world than we realized. 

-Lord Absalom Sydney Featherstone

I didn’t have a word to describe how uncomfortable I was as I sat there in the drawing room with Sheena’s two sisters. They had introduced themselves as Elizabeth and Desi, respectively. Elizabeth had long curly hair that hung about her face, resting on her shoulders. Desi’s was straight, though I felt that likely had something to do with heat. Unlike me, they were dressed a bit more liberally with only Desi wearing a bodice over a bright pink dress. Elizabeth wore a dark shade of green, though somehow hers didn’t make her look like a giant flag. These were my thoughts as I regarded the Rossi family seal fixed prominently over the fireplace near the front of the room. The girls, both likely in their early thirties chatted happily amongst themselves, occasionally asking me a question and then returning to their conversation without waiting for an answer, or talking over me just as I started to speak. Finally, I lost track of the entire conversation and started to crane my neck, looking for Sheena. I peered through an open door on the other end of the drawing room which seemed to lead to a kitchen; and near the foyer, I was able to peek up the stairs, at least a little, and see a landing. Sheena was nowhere to be found.

“Are you looking for something, Lyra?” Desi perked up as she saw me looking about the room. “Do you need more tea, dear?”

“Oh, I bet her tea’s gone cold,” Elizabeth said as she stood and pulled the cup still-hot cup from my hand. She trotted off toward the kitchen and I blinked as I heard the sound of liquid pouring into the wash basin. She returned moments later to pour me a fresh cup and placed it in my hands. “Do you like salt or sugar hon? I like sugar myself, but with you being…well…you…”

“Oh I…I like sugar,” I lied, and Elizabeth’s eyes lit up a she dropped two cubes into the tea. 

“I like her!” Elizabeth said, returning to the couch. “She’s got a taste for the feminine.”

“I uh…where did Sheena go?” I asked suddenly as I felt the color flush from my cheeks. They stopped their conversation and looked at me curiously; Desi laughed. 

“Are you nervous, dear?” Elizabeth asked, her lips pulling upward to hint at a smile.

“We have that effect on people,” Desi laughed. 

“Truly,” Elizabeth agreed. Elsewhere in the house, I heard a door handle click, followed by a set of footsteps. Balthasar came first, emerging from the back of the house and towering over me in his blue military uniform.

“I’ll be just outside, girl,” He nodded to me. “back by sunset, bear it in mind.”

As Balthasar exited the house, I turned my attention to Sheena and her parents. Sheena widened her eyes at me and made a slight jerking motion with her head, which prompted me to leap from the couch and perform a rushed curtsey, to which Elizabeth giggled. Her father was a well-built man with rough hands and a head of graying hair and while he seemed important, he wore only a white button down shirt, a pair of black slacks, and red suspenders. I could see the faint hint of an oil stain on his sleeve, leading into rough leathery hands that had clearly seen their fair share of work.

Her mother on the other hand had dressed for the occasion; she wore a form fitting black gown that complimented her long golden hair. The sleeves came down to just above her elbows and at the waist, a white sash brought the entirety of the outfit together. 

“I..uh…hello,” I said, my eyes darting around the room as I tried to remember just what I was supposed to do.

“How long did you say you had to prepare her, Sheena?” Her father glanced back; Sheena shrugged. “Lyra, my name is Martin Rossi, this is my wife, Colleen, and of course, you have already made acquaintance of my daughters.”

“Yes sir,” I said quickly and quietly. 

“Well then,” Martin Rossi said. “Let us discuss.”

Sheena stepped beside me and indicated that I should take a seat on the chair that I was originally in. We all sat, and I suffered a prolonged silence that was filled only by the ticking of the clock. 

“Well,” Colleen, Sheena’s mother finally spoke. “I should like to open by explaining that Sheena’s decision to bestow the Rossi family name upon you was…an interesting move. Such decisions are typically made…”

“Never,” Martin finished for her. “Families don’t adopt people on a whim, and simply giving someone a name means nothing, but the weight behind the Rossi name, well, that is most definitely something to take into consideration. You have the name, question is, do we embrace you, or do we publicly rebuke you?”

“Sir I-” I started to speak, but Sheena interrupted me.

“I want to start perhaps with the reason I did this. Let us speak of the boy, Micah, who came to us more than a month past-”

“That is the problem, Sheena,” Martin interrupted. “You’ve known him for just over a month? And before that, your only knowledge of him came from the misdeeds of Lord Micah Lavoric. What is it that possessed you to give our family name to a killer?”

“I would speak, father,” Sheena said insistently. He sighed and gestured for her to continue. “The Micah Lavoric I’ve heard of is…well, a horrible person but also one with an unmistakable air of authority, one with conviction and certainty. I have heard of the cruelty of Lord Lavoric’s son, but that day, in the Lady’s office, when they sent him to us in naught but prison rags, I knew that the man before me was not Micah Lavoric. This was not a man, but a boy, and he was frightened. Aye, you might not remember it Lyra, or mayhap you remember it as you please, but you were shaking like a leaf. I almost felt sorry for you, but I kept having to remind myself of who you were. But, as time went on, I saw far less of Micah Lavoric, and more of Lyra. A new person in an old body. When the High Lady was ready to expose her in front of her father to prove a point, I knew that a decision had to be made. Father, mother, you have taught me many things. You taught me business, you taught me the inner workings of clocks, you showed me politics, the nature of the printed word but you also taught me to do what is right. You taught me to never let a person suffer unduly when you have the ability to step in and save them. The High Lady was wrong to do this to her.”

“I heard you called her the ‘High Bitch,” Colleen said, raising an eyebrow and shaking her head. “Did we teach you that too?”

“You taught me to speak up when necessary. I did as you taught, and I hold no regrets.”

“And what of…all this?” Martin indicated me, waving his hand. “You…you’ll continue to dress like this? And to wear cosmetics, and be known by a girl’s name? Is that not exhausting? How do you keep it up?” 

“Yes sir,” I said. “It is exhausting but…this is who I am. Ever since the others began helping me, it’s hurt a little less to look in the mirror, and for the first time I feel alive, as if I have a purpose. Before I was no one, I was just existing, but now…I…I believe there might be a future.”

“and I want you to see that future, Lyra,” Sheena said to me. 

“Lyra,” Colleen said. “The Rossi name comes with some prestige, and as such, responsibility. My question for you, is what would you do if we rejected Sheena’s proposal? What if you found yourself permanently in the palace, working in service?”

“Then,” I took a deep breath and prepared myself. “I would still be me. I would still live, and I’d still be satisfied when I looked in the mirror.”

“What do you want to do with your life, Lyra?” Martin asked, nodding at my previous answer. “Sheena is…well she’s preparing for an illustrious career, I am certain, but Elizabeth is an architect, Desi, a librarian. My wife is famous in printing, and as for myself, clocks. We all do important works for the community, what would you do?”

“I don’t know, sir,” I admitted. “I…haven’t had much a chance to think about it.”

“Indeed,” He nodded. “Well, there is much to consider. All in all, Lyra, you don’t seem a bad person, but this isn’t a decision that we can make lightly. You do understand of course.”

I nodded. “Yes sir, I understand. I was taken aback as well, but I hope that I have made a favorable impression.”

“Oh of course you have!” Elizabeth practically squealed, prompting Martin and Colleen to turn their heads and stare at her for what seemed like a full minute before looking back at me. 

“Colleen has prepared a lunch for us,” Martin said. “Let us move this discussion to the dining room.”

My worry and nervousness did not cease even as we entered the dining room and I laid eyes on a spread of sandwiches and lemon tarts. We took our places at the table, me sitting beside Sheena who instructed me to take a sandwich from the tray. 

“Use your utensils,” She whispered to me as she saw me reaching for it on my plate. I watched her with a blank expression until she finally picked up her own fork and knife, using it to cut the sandwich. I copied her, even though I wasn’t certain anyone should eat a sandwich with a knife and fork. 

“Sheena tells us you know how to cook, somewhat,” Colleen said to me from across the table. “is it so?”

“It is,” I nodded. “I learned a few skills from my sister.”

“Very unusual,” Martin said as he stuffed a piece of sandwich into his mouth. “for a boy from Axock, nobility especially, to learn cooking.”

The silence between words was beginning to become unbearable. The situation itself was uncomfortable as was, but the long window along the wall streamed sunlight onto the table, causing a blinding effect against the white surface. I squinted, trying to see Mr. Rossi across the table, all the while, the sound of clinking silverware picked away at my sanity. 

“We…I…my sister and I,” I stammered nervously, trying to think over the sounds of chewing and silverware. “We did much on our own when my father…when…well you see sir, when my father…”

I tried to speak but the words didn’t come; the clattering of silverware, a cough from Colleen, the sound of Elizabeth’s chair screeching as she adjusted it, all of it began to fill my thoughts as I tried to recall the memory. When had my sister taught me how to cook? What had we cooked? No, this wasn’t right. 

“Lyra,” Sheena whispered. “What’s happening? Are you well?”

I shook my head violently and excused myself from the table, nearly knocking over my chair as I bolted from the dining room. My dress swished against the doorway and against the couch as I rushed toward the front door. I had no recollection of opening the front door; the next thing I knew, I was on the walk, doubled over and breathing heavily with Sheena gripping my arms. My face felt cold.

“Sheena,” I said weakly. “I can’t remember what Robin looks like. My sister. I can’t remember her teaching me to cook, I can’t remember….Sheena what did my room in Axock look like?”

“Calm down,” She told me. “What do you remember?” 

“I remember that I had a sister, and I remember that I had a father. I remember I lived in Axock but I…Sheena I can’t…it’s just fading away. I remember everything from the Klocby but…”

“Sheena,” I heard Martin Rossi call her from the patio. I managed to stand up; a single bead of sweat dripped down my brow as I struggled to remain upright. “Let us talk, inside.”

“Give me but a moment,” Sheena said, struggling to keep me on my feet. “Something’s wrong.”

“Sheena,” Martin said, taking a step forward as Colleen and her daughters remained on the patio. Balthasar stood just by the gate, observing the situation. “The boy is obviously touched in the head. He thinks himself a girl and now this episode? Sheena, it pains me to say it, but your time in that…place has been less than beneficial. You are…exhibiting strange ways of thinking.”

“What are you implying, father?” Sheena demanded. “Lyra needs help.”

“Indeed he does!” Marin said angrily. “and ‘tis help we cannot provide! Philanthropy is a strong tradition in the Rossi household, Sheena, but I think it is time for you to consider moving forward with your life and career! We will send Micah back to the palace grounds and you will come inside. This is not a negotiation, Sheena.”

“I’m sorry, Lyra,” Sheena said, turning to me. “Balthasar, please accompany Lyra back to the palace grounds.”

“Sheena wait,” I protested as Balthasar stepped forward and guided me toward the still-waiting motorcar. 

“You’ll be fine, Lyra,” She said to me as she shut the door behind me.

The ride back was uneventful, I spent it with my head laid against the window of the motorcar, small sobs escaping my throat every time I thought too much about the current situation. Finally, we were back on the airship, just myself and Balthasar. 

“Do you think I’m weak?” I asked him. He frowned at me. 

“What do you mean, girl?” He asked me.

“Do you think I’m weak?” I repeated the question.

“Girl,” He said. “you’re asking me to assess you based upon a metric that no longer exists, established in a place that either of us hardly recall. How should you like me to answer that?”

“I guess,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat and wiping my eyes. “that once again, you are my only friend.”

“Ass that you are,” he laughed. 

Back at the palace grounds, I removed my green dress and stuffed it into the locker behind my bunk, staring hard at the service outfit hanging neatly on the rack beside the clothes that Miah and Sophie had given me. I should give them back. This place was my home, I was going nowhere, I would never do anything. And that was okay, wasn’t it? That had to be okay, because I was Micah Lavoric, son of tyrant, a stain upon society. I breathed heavily, my shoulders back, my body tense as I looked at the mirror hanging just inside locker. I could see the perfectly painted face, the girl staring back, but who was I fooling? Who the hell was I lying to? Myself? A blood curdling scream escaped my throat as my fists slammed against the mirror, shattering it into four pieces while one lodged in the side of my hand, blood spraying across the hanging clothes. There should have been pain, but there wasn’t. There was only rage, hate, toward myself. 

“Who do you think you are?!” I screamed at myself. “Why did you think you could be this?!”

With a bloodied hand and redness seeping down my arm, I tore the clothes from my foot locker and threw them onto the floor. In a blind range I ripped every item from my foot locker and threw them as hard as I could. The cosmetics kit, extra blankets, my hygiene supplies. Shoes. I punches the locker; blood sprayed, more screams escaped my throat as I kicked my bunk as hard as possible, sending a searing pain up my leg. I stumbled and tripped, my ankle spraining as I fell forward and slammed my head against the adjacent bunk. It didn’t stop me; I dragged myself to my feet, still crying still screaming. 

“Fraud!” I screamed as I caught a glimpse of myself in a shard of mirror that had fallen on the floor. “Fake fake fake! Liar!”

My bloodied hand wrapped around the shard as I thought about the way my face had been painted. It was a lie. All a lie. I was lying to myself, to Sheena, to Balthasar, to everyone. They hated me, they were just playing along with me because they had to. I held the shard to my face, pressing the glass against my forehead.

“I’m not her,” I sobbed. “I’m not her, I’m-”

Suddenly, my hand jerked away from my face, a familiar hand encircling my wrist. She was there, in front of me. No, it had to be my imagination. Why would she be back for me? Why? 

“Lyra!” She shouted, tightening her grip on my wrists and shaking me. “Lyra look at me! Look at me now!”

“I’m not Lyra!” I screamed. “It’s all a lie! It’s lie!”

I felt more hands on me; I could see the vague outline of Jen, and then Miah. 

“Lyra,” Miah said to me as she squeezed my shoulder. “tis not a lie, you are Lyra.”

“No!” I spat, trying to stand up and utterly failing as pain shot through my ankle and the hands of my former friends pushed me to the floor.

“Oh you’d better be,” Sheena shouted back. “Because my father told me he’d disinherit me if I came back here. Guess what, Lyra, here I am!”

“Sheena?” I choked, looking at her through blurry eyes. “Are you here?” 

“I am here,” She confirmed. “I’m not moving until you come to your senses, and by fen and fern I won’t leave you behind just because my father has it in his mind you’re something you’re not.”

“We are all here,” Jen said. “and as are you, Lyra.”

“Lyra…” I said; the word burned in my throat as the last of Micah began to fade away.

“That’s right,” Sheena said, drawing me close to her. “You are Lyra, my sister, today, and every day.”