"That Reeve"
The blue lined coat was folded over her arm.
She hadn't dared wear it yet. Not on the walk down. Not with her hands still slightly shaking. But she moved fast — half-walk, half-skip — down the cobbled lane toward the forge.
Her boots clacked unevenly against the stone. Her braid bounced.
She tried not to grin.
Failed.
Twice.
Smoke curled from the half-mended chimney up ahead. The forge door was still crooked on its hinge from the attack, but open enough for her to push through without knocking.
"Lorenzoooo!" she called, already halfway inside.
He looked up from a metal bracket he was adjusting, one brow raised. "You again?"
Lili didn't answer right away. She strode forward, practically glowing, and set the blue coat on the bench between them like it was made of gold.
She didn't say anything.
Just waited.
Lorenzo glanced at the coat, then at her. Back to the coat.
He picked it up slowly — turned it over once — then gave a low whistle.
"Well, well," he said. "They finally stopped being blind."
Lili beamed. "I know."
He handed it back. "Put it on."
She hesitated — then did, shrugging into it with practiced ease. The fit was snug but not tight. When she looked down and saw the blue lining against her sleeves, her grin returned full force.
"Well?" she asked, arms wide. "Do I look terrifying?"
"You look loud," Lorenzo said. "But also—" He nodded once. "Official."
Lili let out a little whoop and spun in place. "I have patrol command. Cross-rank scheduling. Real orders! I'm not just guarding scrolls anymore!"
"And they gave you that power," he said dryly. "Fools."
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Then caught her breath.
"Hey... seriously. You believed in me first," she said. "Before this. Before anyone."
Lorenzo shrugged, but didn't look away. "Wasn't hard to see. You just needed time to catch up."
Lili touched the sleeve of her new coat.
Still blue.
Still real.
"Thanks," she said.
Then, bouncing on her toes again, "Now can I brag, or is that bad form?"
He smirked. "It's you. Restraint's never been your color."
Lili glanced at the clock just above the forge's back shelf and yelped.
"Oh no. I'm late for my own checkpoints—how am I late for my own—okay, it's fine, it's fine, no one panic—except me—wait no I'm in charge—"
She fumbled to straighten her coat, nearly tripped over a hammer on the ground, then recovered with a dramatic spin and two-finger salute.
"I'll be back later! Probably with a clipboard! Wish me luck!"
Before Lorenzo could reply, she bolted out the door, the blue of her new coat flaring behind her like a flag in the wind.
The forge settled into silence again.
Lorenzo sighed. Turned back to his tools.
Then—
Footsteps. Soft.
He looked up just as a familiar figure stepped down from the rear stairs, cloak trailing behind her like a whisper.
Aria.
She blinked once at him. "Why is it loud?"
Lorenzo nearly dropped the clamp in his hand.
"You—? How long—?" He straightened. "You were upstairs?"
Aria raised a brow.
"You never make sound!" he snapped, flustered. "You glide! Like fog that judges people!"
She said nothing.
Then added, dryly, "The street could hear your conversation."
Lorenzo set the clamp down, squinting at her. "Wait... if you've been up there this whole time, don't you have a mission or something?"
Aria stepped further into the room, boots light against the forge floor. Her cloak gave the faintest sway behind her. "I do."
He crossed his arms, leaning slightly on one hip. "Well?"
She glanced toward the open door Lili had just disappeared through, then let her gaze drift toward the forge's hearth. "I'm staying in the city."
Lorenzo blinked. He straightened a little, caught off guard. "You? Assigned to local?"
Aria nodded once. "Festival perimeter. Guard rotations. I'm posted at the northeast quarter for the next two weeks."
He stared at her like she'd spoken in another language. "They put you on parade duty?"
"It's not a parade," she said evenly.
"You know what I mean."
Aria didn't respond right away. Her gaze moved again—this time to the front window, where the late breeze tugged faintly at the hanging awning. She shifted her weight just slightly, the way she always did when her thoughts went somewhere darker. Outside, the air still carried the ghost of smoke — not thick, not obvious, but there. Settled deep in the grain of the wood and the cracks in the stone.
Finally, she said, "I requested the vault trail. They said no."
Lorenzo's brow furrowed. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Because of the break-in?"
Aria gave a small nod.
"They sent someone else?"
"For now," she said.
He studied her face. No flare of temper, no clipped words or sharp glances. Just that quiet stillness, like a storm held underwater. Her eyes were still, but her fingers curled slightly at her sides — not fidgeting, just... coiled.
"So now you're stuck watching fireworks and crowd lines," he muttered.
Aria's voice was quieter still. "For now."
Lorenzo exhaled, dragging a hand across his jaw, the scrape of calloused fingers rough against his stubble. "And here I thought I was the only one they sidelined."
"You were unconscious," she said flatly.
"Minor technicality."
That earned a slant of her eyes in his direction — not a glare, not quite. But enough to say she'd remembered exactly how unconscious he'd been.
Lorenzo huffed a dry breath and tilted his head. "So now what? You just stand on rooftops and glower at festival lanterns?"
"If needed," Aria said without a hint of sarcasm.
He gave her a long look, head tilted, mouth twitching with something between amusement and disbelief. But she was already turning her gaze back toward the forge — not distracted, just measuring the room again like always. Calculating.
"You don't seem thrilled," he added, shifting his weight and scratching lightly at his wrist.
"I don't care about the festival," she replied. Her arms folded across her chest — slow, firm. "I care that they delayed the search."
Lorenzo crossed his arms again, mirroring her without meaning to. "And you're just going to wait?"
"I said delayed. Not stopped."
That silence again. Dense. Controlled. Not repressed — just unwilling to waste energy on what couldn't be changed.
Lorenzo leaned against the edge of the workbench, letting his arms drop. "They really don't get you, do they."
Aria said nothing. Just blinked once, slow.
Then, as if on a different thread entirely: "How's the arm?"
He blinked, surprised by the pivot. He flexed the elbow gently. "Healing. Not good enough to hammer, but I can hold a clamp without cursing."
She nodded once — more acknowledgement than concern — then let her gaze drift to the window again. The light outside had tilted gold. Afternoon creeping toward late. Somewhere down the street, a checkpoint whistle called roll.
Lorenzo flexed his hand once, testing it, then grimaced. "Still a few days out before I can lift anything heavier than tongs."
No response. But her eyes flicked back briefly — not at the arm, but at how he held it.
He gave a small shrug, pushing off the bench slightly, then muttered, "Well. Not all of us patch up like you."
That earned the faintest twitch of her brow. Almost invisible. But it was there.
She didn't speak.
The quiet settled again.
Then she straightened, cloak shifting over her shoulder like a wave breaking. "I'll report in."
He raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"I have the northeast quarter," she said, already angling toward the door. "And two of the posted Vigils don't follow formation."
"You mean they don't follow your formation."
Her expression didn't shift. "Same problem."
He smirked a little, shaking his head. "Right. Go terrify them."
She was already halfway to the door, boots nearly silent on the stone.
"Aria," he said, and she paused, just inside the frame. Turned slightly.
"Mm?"
"You'll know if the search moves again?"
Her head dipped — not quite a nod, more a weighted promise. "I'll know."
He nodded once in return.
And that, apparently, was enough for both of them.
She left without a sound.
This time, Lorenzo didn't watch the door. Just picked the clamp back up — and didn't curse.