The inside smelled nice today. If the apothecary had been tending to precious herbs, it showed. The establishment was barren, and Azia somewhat blamed the hour. It left her enveloped by explosive sprouts alone, still beautifully lush and bountifully spread. The absence of people on the way in felt almost nostalgic, and every thriving plant could rival a nursery not so distant.

  She’d be back at the Institute soon enough, anyway. It wasn’t worth getting homesick over. Given that she’d have her hands full for the foreseeable future, she drank in blooming greenery while she had the chance.

  Azia had an apothecary to go with it, and she was spared of yelling. There was no logical way for Ginger to know she was coming. The timing worked out, then, confined to her office as she typically was. The counter sufficed to handle shedding leaves, so carefully pruned beneath every scrape and sheer of a deft blade. Azia didn’t bother pointing out the curling debris that had spilled onto the hardwood below. Ginger would figure out that much eventually.

  Clinking chimes drew more attention than plants. Ginger raised her head, lowering her knife and a sprig all at once. She raised an eyebrow, just the same. An unhurried smile, to her credit, came with both. “Back already?”

  Azia offered a lazy wave. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Ginger said casually, straightening up as she laid little sprouts to rest on the marble. “And you brought company.”

  Her eyes drifted to Seleth first. Azia didn’t enjoy the less-than-angelic glimmer behind them. “Couldn’t get enough, could you, water boy?”

  Seleth matched her cool grin with one just as playful. It didn’t make the interaction any less comfortable to witness by proxy, for how neither of them were innocent to begin with. “Keep your hands to yourself this time. I told you, I’m loyal.”

  Ginger shrugged. In lieu of further teasing, she turned her attention to an astronomer. “And who’s this?”

  Cailin was largely distracted by every trellis and planter he passed, more absorbed in bursting color than in the crass words of an apothecary. He at least noticed her voice when it mattered most, and he was as polite as ever. In stark contrast to a cold smile, he offered starlight of his own. “I’m Cailin. I’m an astronomer and meteorologist from the Tenaveris Research Institute. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ginger was infinitely less formal in return. It was her turn to wave, albeit half-heartedly. “My name’s Ginger. I’m an apothecary. I’m sure Azia told you that much, though.”

  He beamed anyway. “It’s still a pleasure. Your shop is lovely. Is this a clinic, as well?”

  Ginger jabbed one lazy thumb towards the wall at her back. “It’s in another room, but yes. I see patients regularly, and I send them home with what they need. If there’s anything troubling you, now would be a good time to say so. I’d be happy to take a look at you before you head out.”

  The hint of something poisonous in her voice was enough for Azia’s eyes to sting her. She caught them out of the corner of her own gaze, and it only left Ginger grinning brighter. Her face was concerning.

  Cailin shirked her questionable tone altogether. If he’d missed it, that was a good thing. “I feel alright, but I very much appreciate the offer. If I’m ever back in Raverna, I’ll definitely keep your clinic in mind.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Ginger murmured with far too much satisfaction.

  Seleth calling for his attention was an immense relief, aimless or otherwise. There were enough sprawling plants adorning the walls and shelves that he had his pick, and showing Cailin every single one would’ve been impossible. He still tried his best, ushering the boy towards whatever pinks and blues lined the window. If it kept him away from Ginger, Azia didn’t dare object.

  She had the apothecary to herself, then. Azia started with a scowl. Wordless disdain or not, Ginger was undeterred. “Isn’t he a cute one,” she teased, her voice sickeningly low.

  “Leave him alone,” Azia nearly growled.

  She slipped her hands into her coat pockets. “You’ve been awfully defensive over the boys you bring in here lately, you know. This is an interesting look for you. Are you collecting them, now?”

  Azia groaned. “I regret coming back here.”

  Ginger tipped her head in the alchemist’s direction, the same chilling grin never once faltering. “What was the occasion, might I ask?”

  She went for the greatest understatement of all. “I learned things. I was trying to keep you in on all of it. If you’re gonna be a freak, though, I swear to God, I’ll leave.”

  Ginger only chuckled. “I’ll play nice. I’m listening.”

  In truth, Azia had no idea where to begin. Her eyes wandered, and she indulged in the distant happiness of an anomaly and an astronomer. Both of them had given her too much to work with, really. It was to say nothing of Klare, absent or not. Common ground sufficed, first and foremost. “Do you remember the thing with his blood? The problem with testing it?”

  “Are you going to ask me to try again?” Ginger countered, her tone touched by annoyance. “Cleaning it was tricky. I’m not looking forward to another mess.”

  Azia shook her head. “You don’t need to. I got to see it.”

  Ginger stared her down, shifting her weight onto one foot. “How?”

  “He did it himself, actually. We gave him a knife, and he…”

  She trailed off. Emulating a slicing motion near to her forearm got the point across. It still left Ginger raising an eyebrow again. “And he did that…why, exactly?”

  That part, too, was no easier to explain. Azia did what she could to simplify the process. “He said it takes him a second to ‘access’ his water, for lack of better words. It’s short, but there’s a delay. According to him, giving it an open outlet made it easier. Faster, I guess.”

  She still wasn’t sure if she was explaining the concept correctly, herself. Ideally, Seleth would’ve been less occupied with prodding at climbing sprigs of basil and more occupied with helping her clarify. It was his water. This should’ve been his problem.

  Ginger took it surprisingly well. Her soft hum of understanding was unexpected. “And? How was it?”

  “It was almost scary,” Azia confessed. “He definitely needed it. There was a Thunderstorm, and he…beat it back. That’s putting it lightly. His blood is stronger than the rest of his water, I think. He was dizzy afterwards, but that’s it.”

  If she looked at him, his hands gracing leaves he probably shouldn’t have been touching, she could hardly compare him to the same anomaly that had razed a storm to nothingness. Seleth’s eyes were far from luminous, and his skin was far from blemished. Azia wished he’d roll up his sleeves, by which she could get a second opinion on whether he’d truly escaped scars.

  “I’m sorry about the Thunderstorm,” Ginger said quietly.

  Her soft words were almost jarring, given who they were coming from. “It’s alright. Everyone survived. Honestly, he said he got the idea about using his blood from you.”

  Ginger smirked. “Then he should be thanking me himself, shouldn’t he?”

  Azia didn’t necessarily disagree. For now, she smiled, and she watched Seleth’s far-off happiness in silence. Part of her wondered if Ginger would ask him to demonstrate. Azia wasn’t sure whether she should cut off the idea before it had the chance to fester, given that her eyes had flickered in the same direction.

  Ginger never pressed. Her gaze didn’t even stay on Seleth. It fell beside him, actually, clinging to thriving violet. “I suppose I owe him my thanks, too. He’s definitely a strange boy.”

  Azia followed the path of her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Ginger fixed one pointed finger on the distant cluster of lavender, happily swaying beyond the confines of the planter beyond. In the sunlight, they were gorgeous, bursting with vibrant color far richer than what Azia vaguely remembered. She wondered when Ginger had brought them out, superior to what flowers bloomed around them in every way. “Those guys. He messed with them the last time he was here, and they’ve been growing phenomenally ever since. I can’t prove that it’s related, but he’s odd enough that I have my suspicions.”

  Azia’s eyes widened. “Those are the same ones?”

  “Yup. You can jot that down in your little notebook, if you’d like,” Ginger teased.

  Jeering or not, she most certainly planned to. At the moment, Azia was much more interested in absorbing every shade of brilliant purple that so rarely met her eyes. She had two reasons to drag Seleth to the nursery, now, apparently. It was another experiment for another day, given what abundance of breakthroughs she was still dissecting.

  “I gave most of what you helped me with to the researchers,” Azia said. “Keeps us all on the same page. When it comes to him, the more even everyone is, the better. I appreciate all of that, too.”

  “Are you gonna play messenger forever, then?” Ginger joked.

  Azia didn’t bother fighting her own weak smile. “For as long as possible, ideally. You already know I need all the help I can get.”

  “You’re really taking charge of this whole thing,” Ginger went on. “The alchemists don’t know how lucky they are to have you.”

  Whether or not the compliment was true or in jest was debatable. Azia deflected altogether, just in case. “He’s my responsibility. Yvette tasked me with figuring him out. If this is what it takes to fix everything, then I’ll do it without question. You know that.”

  Ginger’s grin wasn’t as devious as she’d expected it to be, for once. “I’m aware.”

  “Excuse me.”

  His voice was never quite loud enough to make her jump, and his presence was never quite startling enough to manage the same. Still, Cailin at her side was sudden. Azia blamed her fixation on an anomaly lost in flowers and an apothecary offering praise. Surprised or not, she smiled. Ultimately, the one he gave back wasn’t for her at all. She was still getting used to the dichotomy between soft starlight and that which was colder.

  Granted, she’d left Ginger warm enough. Her grin was almost genuine, for once. “What did you say your name was, astronomer?”

  “Cailin,” he reminded, his smile never faltering.

  “And he’s a meteorologist,” Azia reminded of her own accord. She doubted Cailin would do it himself, for the hint of pride the act would carry.

  Ginger raised one hand to her lips thoughtfully. Her grin wasn’t innocently warm for long. “Right. Talented boy,” she conceded, her tone splashed with something dangerous.

  Azia outright kicked her in the ankle, swift and sharp. It was more preemptive than anything. Ginger only snickered.

  “Do you grow all of these plants yourself? They’re beautiful,” Cailin offered, his delicate words never faltering.

  In the face of questionable intentions, Azia intended to keep them that way. To her immense relief, Ginger forewent torment in favor of honesty. “I do. It definitely takes work, but they’re more than effective at what they’re supposed to do. I don’t mean to brag, but you won’t find much higher quality remedies anywhere else around town.”

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  She was definitely bragging, and the look on her face spoke to nothing otherwise. Cailin took it well enough, regardless. “How long have you had your shop for?”

  Ginger tipped her hand back and forth. “Three years, give or take. I got my license when I was twenty-two. Still took a bit of time after that to get it up and running.”

  “To become an apothecary at twenty-two is incredibly impressive,” he praised, beaming. “I can’t imagine the amount of work that took.”

  “Says the astronomer boy. And meteorologist,” she added teasingly. “It wasn’t that hard.”

  Again, Ginger was bragging, and every word was falsely humble. It very much showed. With certainty, Cailin didn’t know her well enough to unravel her double-sided grin. Azia rolled her eyes.

  “Have you always lived in Raverna?” Cailin tried.

  “Born and raised,” she answered plainly, cocking her head.

  He paused. “Do you like it here?”

  Azia was somewhat surprised that he was handling her so well, actually. She was yet more surprised that Ginger was behaving enough to converse back within reason. For as harshly as their personalities clashed, there was something almost sweet in the way they mingled.

  It was enough for Azia to smile, and Ginger’s grin settled into one just as warm. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything. It has its ups and downs, sure, but that’s what makes it unique. I’m used to the clientele, anyway. If I go anywhere else, I lose all of my best patients. I should’ve thought about that one better, right?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him playfully. Cailin laughed. “I’m sure they very much need you. You’re doing the town a service.”

  The trade-off to warmth was the degree to which he risked pumping Ginger full of praise she didn’t need. The sparkle in her eyes was already getting concerning. If it came from him, turbulent as her expressions towards him were, Azia was all the more concerned. Joking or not, at least she wasn’t as bad as Seleth.

  “I am, aren’t I?” Ginger murmured anyway.

  Again, Cailin chuckled softly. Eventually, his laughter fizzled and faded. The gentle warmth that lingered in its wake was comfortable, with or without the silence he settled into. Ginger was content to embrace the same, momentarily. Azia had half a mind to wonder if the same teasing would start anew, should she refuse to intervene. Again, she was tempted to cut it off before it began.

  “Can I…ask you something?” Cailin finally began, his voice quiet.

  Ginger nodded, never doffing the same smile as she slipped her hands back into her coat pockets. “Of course. Anything you’d like, little astronomer.”

  Azia probably would’ve chided her choice of words, given where it was going, had it not been for Cailin’s face. Where Ginger kept a smile, his own flickered and faded. She’d thought he was offended, at first. Cailin held the apothecary’s gaze nonetheless, calm eyes matching with a calm voice in a way that was anything but comfortable.

  “How old were you during the Raverna Tempest?” he pressed.

  Ginger’s face fell in turn. It careened to the floor, in truth, and her smile went with it. Where Cailin was neutral with calm alone, Ginger was neutral with something far more empty. Her eyes came to match immediately, somewhere between hollow and cold. Somehow, they never left Cailin’s own. Ginger narrowed them in the slightest, her breaths just barely louder.

  Where she was quiet, Azia wasn’t. It was a reflex. Her head snapped towards him. “Cailin!” she snarled.

  Admittedly, she didn’t mean to yell--particularly not at him, fragile as he was. Cailin recoiled beneath her tone, and she felt even worse. A calm gaze that pooled with the tiniest hint of hurt wasn’t lost on her. None of it was enough to make her regret the outburst entirely. She was vaguely aware of Seleth’s distant eyes on her, startled aquamarine peeking out from beyond leafy shelves. At the moment, he was irrelevant. Technically, so was Cailin.

  One hand settled onto her shoulder. Azia hadn’t realized she was shaking until she felt a touch far more level. Given the subject, she was shocked that it was level at all. “It’s fine.”

  Her worried gaze shot to Ginger’s own. “But--”

  “Relax,” Ginger insisted. “It’s alright.”

  Her eyes were still just as numb as the rest of her face. It hurt simply to witness. Even so, Azia bit her tongue. That much was miserable.

  Ginger’s hand fell to her side, and her attention fell to Cailin alone. “I was twelve. Why do you ask?”

  Cailin recovered well from her outburst, and he shed pain in favor of curiosity. Again was he just as calm. “I’ve never gotten to speak with anyone raised in Raverna who lived through it. I’m…assuming you experienced it, as well.”

  The moment Azia opened her mouth, the same stifling hand clamped down atop her shoulder just as quickly. She hated it. She hated swallowing words of reproach twice over, and she hated the way she wasn’t as resentful of them the second time around. Gentle as she’d learned Cailin to be, the firmness tangled in prying starlight was as new as it was jarring. Granted, Azia was still learning him to begin with. It wasn’t enjoyable.

  “Right,” Ginger said, her words just as hollow as her eyes. “Meteorologist. Almost forgot that part.”

  She squeezed Azia’s shoulder tighter. It wasn’t enough to hurt. It got close. “And a researcher,” she added, the title dipped in a tint of venom.

  If Cailin caught it, he took it with grace. “I’m not asking without reason. My dream is to eradicate the Precipitation once and for all. I’m seeking anything and everything that contributes to that. It would mean a lot to me.”

  Azia knew his motives to be pure, and his heart to be the same. It didn’t make his questioning any less frustrating. It didn’t loosen the grip on her shoulder, and it didn’t ease the budding ice in Ginger’s gaze. The same seeped into her voice, casual or not. “I understand. Azia has her dreams. You have yours. I respect that. Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

  Her voice straddled the line between level and bitter. At last, Ginger unfurled taut fingers from Azia’s shoulder once more, slipping them back into her pocket. “That Research Institute must be nice, right? I’ve never been there. Never been to the Alchemist Institute, either. I’m sure they’re really secure. Fortified. Safe. Warm.”

  Each word carried the slightest hint of the same bitter taste. Azia could do little more than watch. Cailin did so in turn, and he absorbed every glimmer of frost without fear. “You’ve got your little army over there when it Rains, if memory serves. Well-trained. Experienced. Even better. Do you have somewhere to go when things get dangerous? What about you? Can you fight?”

  Even Azia wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical. Cailin gambled on the concept in silence. Ultimately, he was right. Ginger took one, two, three slow steps towards the boy, and the gap between less-than-pure ice and starlight grew concerningly small. Still, he never budged. Ginger’s voice no longer matched her face at all.

  “What’s the worst tier you’ve ever seen, Cailin?” she asked, her tone soft and sharp all at once.

  In lieu of words, he stared her down. His own eyes were strikingly gentle, burning beneath subtle venom or not. Cailin tangled his fingers together calmly.

  When he didn’t speak, she didn’t pry. “Close your eyes,” Ginger demanded instead.

  He did. Cailin didn’t so much as hesitate. Ginger had her turn with staring, and a cold gaze struck at him where he couldn’t see.

  “I want you to imagine the highest tier you’ve ever dealt with. I want you to imagine the most abysmal Rain you’ve ever seen in your life. Remember what that felt like. Remember what that sounded like. Remember everything that went through your head, and remember the fear in your heart that day.”

  Azia watched his shoulders rise and fall with the weight of a heavy breath, steady and even. She was still almost certain that he’d drawn a third set of eyes permanently, Seleth’s own glued to the same confrontation from afar. Ginger was unpredictable, and that much wasn’t new. Right now, the concept was unsettling. Azia had half a mind to intervene before it could go any further.

  “How fast was it? How powerful was it? Could it be quelled? Could your friends destroy it all and save the day? If you’re standing here right now, I’m willing to bet that was the case. It’s easy when Precipitation doesn’t chase you down. It’s easy when Precipitation doesn’t find where you’re hiding. That’s a terrifying thought, isn’t it?”

  Ever so slightly, Azia caught the way his entangled grip grew tighter. If she’d blinked, she probably would’ve missed it. In every other way, Cailin was just as calm. Where Ginger was falsely the same, Azia risked choking on whatever poisonous fog had clouded a place meant to heal. She hadn’t realized she was wringing her own hands together until well after the fact.

  “It can break more than just windows. Did you know that? It can break lots of things, really. Took a long, long time to rebuild this town afterwards. You’ve got all of that fancy infrastructure. We had a cute little house. Didn’t stand up so well against all of that. Five people only have so many places to hide in a home that tiny.”

  Ginger was practically looming over Cailin, her radiant disdain stinging him from so near. Even now, his eyes were closed. “It wasn’t like escaping was going to do us any good. I had a neighbor, Shay. Saw him out jogging each morning. He’d always stop to say hello to my mother while she was doing laundry. He used to help, every now and then. He was a strong guy. Excellent runner. Turns out, he made it three feet before they snapped his neck. He didn’t even know what hit him.”

  She paused. “Open your eyes,” Ginger demanded, her voice just barely shaking.

  Again, Cailin obliged. His hands were still clasped, and his eyes were still gentle. He raised his head, matching a gaze far less forgiving than his own. Azia almost envied his peace, in truth. The sickest part of her wondered if he deserved Ginger’s loathing, for what he’d done to earn it.

  Where her voice grew steady once more, it was Ginger’s fingers that shook. With care, she rolled up her right sleeve, bearing what splintering skin she could conceal to the open air. “You’re a smart boy. You know what Precipitation does, right? Think you can guess what this is? Because it could’ve been much, much worse. It was, for my brother. If he hadn’t taken the hit for me, I wouldn’t be an apothecary. Maybe he would’ve been one, instead. He always wanted to be.”

  Cailin’s eyes crawled along every splotchy stain, and Azia was guilty of the same. She was confident that Seleth was just as grotesquely captive, for how Azia’s focus drifted upwards at least once. Ginger took every magnetized gaze with grace far beyond what they deserved. It was what she wanted, maybe.

  She never bothered releasing her raised sleeve. “Lost my father. Lost my baby sister. My mother and I made it through. The trick is to hold your breath. If you’re quiet enough, either they won’t hear you cry, or God can hear every prayer you make. One of those worked.”

  Only when Cailin peeled his eyes away from the wound did Ginger relent, thick fabrics blanketing her arm once more. “And you can forget about fighting. You don’t get to choose when it ends. You don’t get to choose anything. There’s no beating them down. If you survive, it’s by luck alone. I was too busy blocking out the screaming to count how long it took. You guys are better at that than me, I’m sure. I have a feeling it was anywhere from a few hours to my entire life. I’m just an apothecary, though. What would I know?”

  And when Ginger’s hands slipped into her pockets yet again, she was still far too near to the meteorologist. Cailin held his ground, and he held her gaze in turn. She leaned in ever closer, their faces mere inches apart. Azia was amazed he didn’t freeze to death right then and there. “So there you have it, little astronomer. There’s your Tempest. Was it everything you were hoping it would be?”

  He was quiet. He was quiet for long enough that Ginger backed away, offering up a precious gap devoid of venom. Eventually, Cailin sighed, his eyes still painfully soft. “I’m sorry,” he murmured at last. “For what you went through.”

  Ginger, too, was quiet. “Consider this my contribution to your mission, I suppose. If you got something out of that, then I’m sure it was worth it.”

  “And I’m sorry if I offended you,” he added so soon after.

  “You ask some pretty heavy questions to new faces, Cailin,” she shot back almost instantly. “I’d watch your step.”

  It was the first time Azia saw him tense, subtle as the motion was. His fault or not, she drew a line. “Ginger--”

  “I, uh…never got to thank you,” she heard instead, small and meek. “For…all of the tests you did. For Azia’s sake, I mean. She got to use the stuff you gathered in some reports she did. I learned some things about myself, too. Appreciate everything you did for us.”

  Where Ginger’s eyes were forever sharp, Seleth’s had long since pooled with unease. He could hardly look at her at all, tapping the tip of his shoe against the hardwood awkwardly. For him alone, Ginger gave up her own sigh.

  “You’re more than welcome. Glad I could be of service. If you’re ever in need of a bit more inspection, you know where to come.”

  Seleth’s grin was strained. His sparkle faltered immediately, and false playfulness came out taut. From him, it couldn’t have been more unnatural. “I don’t know. You’re pretty rough with guys you've just met, you know. And you seriously need to watch where you put your hands.”

  Where his jokes were uncomfortable, Ginger’s smirk was just the same. Still, it was there. Azia couldn’t tell whether or not it was a relief. “The offer stands. I’ll be waiting for you, water boy.”

  Time hadn’t been a concern. Azia had accounted for that much. Technically, she was ahead of schedule, and she had sunshine to burn. At the moment, there was little sunshine to be found within the walls of the shop. There was just as little starlight, still flickering and fading at her side. Platitudes could only bandage so much. She bit her lip.

  “We’re…gonna head out,” Azia said. “Thanks for…letting us stop by. I’ll reach out if I have any questions, or if I find anything you might be interested in.”

  The way by which Ginger still clung to the same smirk was impressive, false or not. It melted into the softest smile, and that was even more shocking. The apothecary patted her shoulder. “Or come back, like I said. It’s not that bad of a drive. You can spare the time.”

  Azia exhaled heavily. “I…yeah.”

  When Ginger’s eyes drifted to Cailin, his own long since cast to the floor alone, Azia feared the worst. “Cailin,” Ginger began.

  His gaze snapped to her own, plagued with hesitation and calm all at once. “Yes?”

  Ginger gave him the same smile, surprisingly. “No hard feelings. Life goes on, little astronomer. Good luck with that dream of yours.”

  Cailin was quiet. In place of words, he only nodded. Ginger cocked her head slowly, and Azia liked to imagine she was satisfied.

  Seleth tossed a wave over his shoulder, if not another half-hearted grin to match. He preceded her, as did the astronomer who made for the door in silence. Azia never got more than several steps there, herself. She was growing used to the feeling of Ginger’s hand on her shoulder, at this point. It might not have been a good thing anymore.

  “You’re always welcome to do this the other way around, you know,” Ginger offered. “I’ll close the clinic for the day. I can come to the Alchemist Institute. Maybe I’ll get to see what you’ve got going on, for a change.”

  The thought was nice. Whether or not Ginger could see it, they probably shared a smile. “I don’t think you’d like the way we make the Precipratory antiseptics. Might be more…crude than what you’re used to, I guess.”

  Ginger chuckled. That was just as pleasant. “Everyone starts somewhere. We can’t all be perfect. Hell, bring them here. I’ll teach your little alchemists how to do the job right.”

  “Since when do you do charity?” Azia joked.

  “It’s only ever you and Kassy. New friends notwithstanding, of course. It’d be interesting to meet one of your alchemist acquaintances in person.”

  Azia was used to teasing, and she was used to deceptive sweetness that shouldn’t have touched crass words. She’d seen ice devoid of purity from beyond, a handful of times over. Never had she earned it herself, and she’d never hoped to. Azia chased two boys out of the clinic with her eyes, and her skin froze over by poisoned words alone. If she could’ve run, she would’ve.

  “Whatever keeps researchers the hell out of my shop.”