For what Briar’s words had led her to believe of his emotions, Octavia hadn’t quite figured out if she was doing the Ensemble a favor or striking them down with a curse. It was not only too late to second-guess herself, but an impossible gesture regardless. It would’ve been inevitable. This was the furthest she could go in sparing them, and she prayed it was enough for each to have treasured the time spent with those fated to return to Above.

  She’d only had Stradivaria for several months. She was well aware that there were those whose bonds stretched back much, much further than hers. Of the Ensemble's own, collectively, she hadn’t bothered to ask. The thought only made it hurt worse.

  “Are we…dealing with ours right after this?” Harper asked, his voice tinted with a hint of anxiety that Octavia didn’t miss.

  It didn’t mean she had a solid answer. “I don’t know. There’s one more besides ours and theirs. We have to deal with that one, too.”

  Harper tilted his head. “Do you know where it is?”

  That, too, lacked a clear answer. “Sort of. Stratos said that would kind of…take care of itself. He’ll call for me when the time comes. He has to go last, apparently.”

  “You’re talking about their Lord of All?” Viola tried.

  She nodded. “Yeah. He’s supposed to make sure all of the others make it out safe, from what I was told. Only then will he actually go back himself.”

  Josiah crossed his arms. “How’d you find all of this out?”

  And to that, there was no good answer at all. Octavia wasn’t even certain if it was something to be concealed. For how near she was to completion, she could throw caution to the wind and offer hand-picked truths. Given the way Stradivaria’s case jostled against her shoulders as she walked, a reminder of the spider web that still sought to trip her up, keeping her mouth shut even now wasn’t a terrible idea.

  “Ambassador’s privilege,” she finally joked. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

  “It’s…insane that this is actually happening,” Viola murmured. “I mean, I know it’s only been a few months, but it felt like a lot longer.”

  “We’re not gonna have Dissonance anymore, pretty soon,” Octavia said softly. “It’ll all be gone. It’ll…never hurt anyone again.”

  Viola’s smile was faint, if not warm all the same. Octavia returned it. For as glad as she was to nearly be done, her original goal had sometimes slipped through the cracks. It was a pleasant surprise when she could find it again.

  There was lead that pooled in her stomach over the fleeting idea that Mixoly, should she so choose, could undo Octavia’s hard work in an instant. She beat it down with all the trust she could muster and clung to her smile as though her life depended on it. Agony would never come back. She opted to believe in that alone.

  The smirk on Harper’s face as he leaned towards Renato was almost contagious. “What’s it like to be the last Strong Maestro in the world?”

  Renato recoiled severely, nearly stopping in his tracks over the revelation. “Wait, oh my God, that’s terrifying. I…wait, really?”

  Harper got a laugh out of it, at least. Octavia, too, wasn’t immune to at least a giggle. “I mean, we’re all about to be pretty isolated,” she comforted. “It’ll…just be us.”

  “And then it won’t be any of us.”

  The weight of Madrigal’s words, soaked in sorrow she hadn’t quite wrung out from earlier, left them suspended uncomfortably in the air. She was a magnet for five sets of worried eyes, her voice concerningly monotone. Not one of them bothered with inquiring as to her well-being. It was obvious enough by her dejected face alone.

  “We could…always get started on that list of stuff we wanna do after all of this,” Renato offered with a half-hearted smile, draping one arm around Madrigal's shoulders. “Tell you what--I’ll show you around Selbright as much as you want. Just, like, not that one neighborhood again. Everywhere else is fine. I know you’re good with nature stuff and all, but there’s only so many dates I can take you on with…grass. I’m seriously done with grass. By the time we’re finished, you’re gonna be sick and tired of Selbright, and then...maybe we can trade? I wanna see where you live, too. We could switch it up a bit. Maybe you could take me on a date for once, princess. How’s that sound?”

  Madrigal didn’t answer, nor did she acknowledge him. When she clung to herself tightly, her pained eyes far lower than he could hope to capture them, Renato’s face fell. It hurt just to watch.

  “Let’s just take things as they come,” Viola interrupted weakly. “Let’s…get through this first. You’re sure you’re up for guiding twelve Muses in one day?”

  Octavia nodded, unable to conjure a reassuring smile in the aura of Madrigal’s quiet distress. “I’ll be alright.”

  In truth, it wasn’t even slightly the aspect of guiding itself that Octavia was concerned about. The motions of tolls and the caveats of guidance were purely muscle memory by now, a reflex she’d surely etched into her bloodstream for the rest of her life. If simply Madrigal’s anticipation of Lyra’s inevitable departure was enough to leave her like this, then it burned to know the Ambassador was to deal out five true such punishments in short succession.

  Four, on closer thought. There was a part of Octavia that was somewhat more apprehensive over the idea of seeing Faith again. Not since the night she’d guided Mixoly had the two Heartful Maestras come face-to-face. She wondered if the circumstances of their meeting, let alone their meeting at all, had been communicated to the Ensemble.

  From what Octavia had come to gather of Jasse--and, generally, the Heartful Muses at large--she doubted Faith would’ve been advised to do so. Similarly, in the same context, Octavia doubted Faith truly understood the situation at all. For what it was worth, she was cross with Jasse on Faith’s behalf. She knew it ultimately meant nothing.

  It wasn’t Faith she fixated on first, far behind those who’d proposed their congregation in the first place. For the small tinge of awkwardness that followed their eyes meeting--and, subsequently, the Heartful Maestra tearing hers away first--it wasn’t as important as the beautiful sea. He smiled, soft as it was.

  “Octavia,” River said simply, his voice as gentle as his eyes.

  For him, with what was to come, it was all she could do to at least try to reciprocate. “Hi. Uh…thank you for…coming.”

  “So,” Francisco began with a half-hearted stretch, “this is it, then, huh? You guys leaving Tacell after this?”

  Octavia winced. “Did you…want us to?”

  River laughed softly. It was the one thing she’d miss the most about her personal haven. “You’re free to stay as long as you’d like, Ambassador. It was made for you, after all. We wouldn’t mind if you were here for a little longer.”

  Her smile was genuine. “I can’t say I’d mind, either. I’m gonna miss you guys.”

  Viola laid one hand delicately on her shoulder. “This doesn’t have to be the end, you know. We can still spend time together. Maybe they could come see Coda?”

  Francisco grinned. “That’d be pretty cool, actually. Might take you up on that, if you’d have us.”

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us,” Josiah added. “Especially with Velpyre. There’s no way we would’ve been able to get Seraphe back on our own.”

  River shook his head. “You’re incredibly resourceful. It’s an understatement to say I was impressed.”

  River didn’t give Josiah time to absorb his praise. Instead, he turned to Octavia once more. “You’ve surrounded yourself with phenomenal people, Ambassador.”

  Octavia beamed. “I don’t disagree.”

  When she caught the slightest flicker of tension on his face, her smile weakened. “I…hope I was helpful to you, even just a little bit.”

  Octavia nodded fervently, grasping River's hands in both of her own so fast that he outright staggered. “Of course you were! You’re a fantastic leader! You did all of this for me, and I wouldn’t have been able to get as far as I did without you! You were more than helpful, River. You were amazing. Thank you for...being there for me. Thank you for looking out for me.”

  She relished the way his eyes sparkled. That, too, she would miss viciously. His smile was faint, and still just as lovely.

  “We wish you the best in whatever comes next,” Briar said.

  His voice, in particular, served as a sobering reminder of a task she’d somewhat fought to forget. Octavia didn’t want to ask. She knew she’d have to.

  “Are you guys…ready?”

  There was no instant reaction, verbal or otherwise, from any of the five who’d gathered before her. She hated the way River’s smile, so carefully garnered and wonderfully cherished, gradually fell. So, too, was she robbed of his eyes, dejected tides evading her in favor of the grass kissing his shoes. He was silent, as were they all collectively. She didn’t dare press, leaving their consent in the hands of the Ensemble alone. Briar’s singular, heavy sigh served as her answer an eternity later.

  “Yeah.”

  For the last time, she watched with a heavy heart as cases upon the earth were lifted aloft. There was almost a pang of jealousy that hit her, for the way they flicked each lock and tugged every zipper so tenderly. Octavia wished she still had the love for Stratos that would lead her to the same regret she found on their faces, when that time would come. If she could've switched places with them, perhaps she would've--not solely to steal their pain, but maybe to steal just a hint of adoration for a partner of her own.

  Octavia was almost remorseful that she hadn’t grown closer to their respective Muses, for how often she’d spent time with the Ensemble collectively. At the very least, she resolved to give them a proper sendoff with a smile. Given the hurt that veiled River’s face, it was more than false in his presence. She was straining, somewhat.

  “You’ve…all paid your tolls, right?”

  Mint nodded wordlessly.

  “Do you…know how many?”

  “One each,” Briar said, propping the cello comfortably against his legs as he stood.

  Octavia nodded in turn. “Okay. I can work with that.”

  She thought to ask which one was content to sever their bond first. If she were in their shoes, she doubted she’d volunteer. In the worst way, she was their executioner. There was no correct choice.

  Her eyes instinctively chased the shining seafoam she cherished. It glistened with heartache.

  Octavia didn’t need to call his name, not for how he returned her gaze with pained understanding. She watched the way River tensed, gripping Renegadria just the slightest bit tighter. She thought to offer him words of comfort. Those she found were half-hearted at best.

  “I’m…really glad I got to meet you. You were an incredible Maestro,” she mumbled, each heavy step towards him as hesitant as the last.

  He was silent, his eyes shimmering dangerously as she approached. It took everything Octavia had to maintain her composure. Francisco had once asked her not to break River's heart. She didn’t have a choice.

  “And you’re an…incredible person, too,” Octavia added softly, raising one hand preemptively towards Renegadria. Even now, her steps were weighted with the burden of a responsibility she resented on River's behalf. It hurt to go forward.

  For every step she took forward, then, he took one step back.

  Three more steps in, she hesitated. When she tried once more for good measure, she got the same result.

  His shoes ruffled the fluffy grass below with every reversed movement, his hands trembling somewhat around the accordion as he fixed her with the rich tides she typically relished. Instead, they were tumultuous, as strained as the rest of him. He widened their gap, even as she stopped moving forward. Never did he peel his eyes away from hers. Even now, Octavia’s hand was still slightly aloft, slightly extended, and slightly offered to him with fingers that couldn’t hope to reach.

  “Riv…er?” she asked weakly.

  “No.”

  The handful of deep breaths she watched him take devolved quickly, at least several of them rattling audibly on the way out. Even from here, Octavia could see the way his shoulders shook. She wasn’t the only one eyeing him with confusion, nine other people focused on the Spirited boy’s every move. When she continued to stare, he shook his head slowly.

  “No,” he repeated, his voice wavering. “I…I won’t.”

  Octavia blinked. “You won’t…what?”

  Every breath was a visible struggle, every tremor more vivid than the last as he clung to Renegadria for all it was worth. “This is…all I have. I won’t do it. I won’t.”

  Octavia’s eyes widened. Her own breath hitched in her throat. “River, you…have to.”

  Again, he shook his head, anxious seafoam washing over her.

  “River, we all have to,” she implored softly. “A lot of us don’t want to do it either, but they have to go. You know that. I know you know that.”

  “Enough of them have gone,” he argued. “That was plenty. If you want to send yours, then send yours. There’s still so much more I need to do. There’s so much more I can give. This is…everything.”

  “River, we’ll find something together, I told you. We talked about this. We’re here for you. I’m here for you. This isn’t where everything ends. You have your whole life ahead of you. We’re gonna make it wonderful,” Octavia argued back.

  “This is my life. This is my purpose,” he countered, his voice slowly rising. “I already told you that this is what I was born to do. I can’t lose that.”

  Her eyes drifted pleadingly to Francisco, a silent cry for intervention. He, too, looked equally strained. Briar and Mint were no different, still and tense as they watched their leader resist.

  Francisco at least tried, if not with strong hesitation. “Hey, Riv--”

  “I can’t!” River almost shouted, his voice wavering fiercely.

  Francisco flinched beneath his volume. Octavia didn’t enjoy the way her heart was racing already.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “River, please, Rondelio needs to be able to go back to Above! I know you don’t want to, but he can’t stay here! It’s hard, I get that, and I know how awful it can be to lose your partner, but it’s what has to happen! If nothing else, do it for him! I know you love him!” she begged.

  “You don’t understand!” River snapped. “Octavia, everything happens for a reason! Without this, I have nothing! I’d sooner die than give that up!”

  “River!” she cried, her heart breaking beneath the weight of every word.

  “I know how you feel.”

  Octavia froze. River did so in turn, stubborn as he was. Where his spirit rebelled, it was a different spirit entirely that cut him off with grace, her eyes sharp and soft all at once.

  “They’re…miracles. They’re like little miracles that came into our lives and made everything better. They’re wonderful. I know how they can change your whole life in the best way, and how they can make you into the greatest person you could be. Sometimes, I don’t know who I'd be without my partner. I still don’t really know. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. I don’t want to give her up, either.”

  Despite his shaking hands and desperate eyes, River absorbed Madrigal’s every word in silence. Octavia held her breath as she did the same. She wasn’t the only one.

  Madrigal’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, whether intentionally or involuntarily. “But I…know she still has to go home. She has a family. She has someone she loves waiting for her. It’s not fair for me to keep her from that. I want to keep being a Maestra, too. I want to keep loving her, but I know I can’t be selfish. I know there was more I could’ve done with her, and sometimes I even feel like I wasted some of my precious time with her. I promise that I know how you feel. I…promise.”

  Even agitated as he was, Octavia could see River's breaths steadying in the slightest. “I-I…I have…too much left to give. I haven’t done enough. If this is what fate decided for me, then it has to be a sign of something. I have to do this. I need to do this.”

  “River, Rondelio isn’t a ‘sign’ that you need to friggin’ kill yourself!” Francisco hissed instead--much to Octavia's surprise.

  “Shut up!” he growled.

  Octavia outright jumped. She’d never heard a single hostile word on River's lips before, desperate or not. To hear it leveled at one of the Ensemble, no less, was perhaps even more jarring. Mint and Briar looked equally as astonished as Francisco. The Ambassador’s own circle wasn't at all immune to the same shock.

  It didn’t deter Francisco, ultimately. “I’m not wrong!”

  “I don’t expect you to understand! You…you don’t have to worry about any of this!” River cried. “You’ve got more than enough strength to--”

  “This is the freakin’ Apex thing, isn’t it?” Francisco snapped. “River, how many times do we have to--”

  “We don’t even know where it ended up! We never even saw it!”

  “River, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Briar said calmly, his intervention gentle. “The Apex of Spirit was probably guided, and we didn’t know. It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  “It would’ve!”

  “Stop chasing what you can’t have!” Francisco shouted.

  River didn’t argue. The suffering in his eyes was enough to challenge even Francisco’s flames, for how they surely burned right through the Willful boy’s skin. Neither backed down. Not once had Octavia dared to breathe.

  “You…never found the Apex of Spirit?”

  The breath Octavia held evaporated in full, ceasing to exist fast enough that her lungs could’ve collapsed. Her eyes darted frantically to Madrigal. She was vaguely aware of the way Josiah’s did the same.

  Octavia wondered if it was the kinship of their legacies alone that blunted River’s words towards Madrigal each time, softened even on the edge of despair. “W-We…never found it. We weren’t there for every single guidance, so maybe that’s our fault, but it never crossed our sights. I never got to meet it.”

  Frankly, it was bold of Josiah to contribute at all, given the atmosphere. Still, he was level-headed enough to give an honest effort at mediation, and Octavia knew him to have earned River’s respect. It was a fair gamble. “We never explicitly identified it on our end. No one expected you guys to watch every single guidance, anyway. Ultimately, the only thing different about an Apex is strength, and you’re strong enough as it is. I saw you in Velpyre. You were excellent. You can always look back on that and be proud of what you accomplished. An Apex doesn’t make a Maestro perfect.”

  For how straightforward he so often was, Octavia was incredibly impressed with how he’d managed to peel back River’s distress to its core. She hadn’t needed to say a word.

  “You don’t understand,” River argued quietly.

  Octavia was pleasantly surprised that he was gentle with Josiah, too--distressed as he continued to be. Josiah didn’t falter. “It’s the same way a Harmonial Instrument is only as good as their Maestro. Having an Apex doesn’t immediately mean there’ll never be anyone stronger than you.”

  “You don’t understand,” River repeated, somewhat more desperately.

  Octavia couldn’t help the way her eyes wandered for a brief moment, watching the Ensemble absorb Josiah’s every calm and rational word with bated breath. She wondered if it was frustrating, the way he could press where they couldn’t. She wondered if it burned.

  What did burn was the way Francisco had tilted his head, ever so slowly, with sharp eyes fixated on Josiah alone. Lost in conversation with River as the boy was, only Octavia caught the silent gesture.

  Her stomach lurched. She did a mental replay, again and again, combing every word that had left Josiah’s mouth. She'd forgotten. She had absolutely no idea how she'd forgotten.

  “Tell me what I don’t understand,” Josiah requested calmly.

  “Their strength is important, yes, but the gifts those Maestros end up with are what makes them unique!” River explained, his voice wobbling once more.

  She replayed, and replayed, and replayed, and replayed, and felt her heart sink as she watched Francisco’s knowing eyes trail to Mint and Briar respectively. When their gazes, too, migrated to Josiah in tandem, Octavia wanted to vomit. She struggled harder.

  “So, then, what is it about the Apex of Spirit that you’re so invested in? What’s the difference with their gift?”

  “I don’t know! That’s the point! If my gift is already what it is, then imagine what the Apex’s could do! Imagine how much good someone could do with that! To know it was guided already is…is…frustrating!” River yelled.

  It clicked. It was too late to change it, nor to alert Josiah of his fatal slip-up. He hadn’t known of Francisco’s gift, “unique” as it was. It wasn’t his fault. Octavia had no breaths left to hold, watching with utter helplessness as the Ensemble stared the boy down wordlessly.

  “I tried to make the most of what I had! I really, really did!” River continued, the tumultuous sea in his eyes glistening dangerously still. “Even so, there was more I could’ve done! To know I can never give everything I’ve got…is it really so wrong of me to want that? I’m limited, I know that! I’m not an idiot! But damn it, I don’t want to be, and that could’ve given me something! Maybe I could’ve gotten it back! Maybe I could’ve given less! Maybe I could’ve been faster, or made someone even better than they started out! Maybe it could’ve been something I’ve never even thought about, and I’ll never have the chance to know! It’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life!”

  “You love your gift that much?” Madrigal asked, her tiny voice almost inaudible.

  River shook his head fervently. “That’s not the point!”

  His point was irrelevant. Octavia was much, much more preoccupied with the way Josiah’s eyes were gradually widening as River conversed, darting back and forth between the two Spirited Maestros. When they drifted painstakingly slowly to Octavia instead, her confusion outweighed the stress that accompanied the Ensemble’s suspicions. The imbalance didn’t last.

  “We were never supposed to have that kind of power,” Madrigal protested softly.

  “But we did, and we do! It’s not for nothing!” he argued back with far more passion.

  Her voice rose to meet his, wobbling all the way there. “They wouldn’t want us to get hurt!”

  “They left that choice up to us for a reason!”

  “Your life is important!” Madrigal cried, her own eyes shimmering for a different reason entirely.

  “You don’t get it! You’ve barely even used yours! You’ve only had to--”

  River cut himself off. The slightest motion of his head, shaken too quickly in the midst of his frantic counter, had landed the Ensemble perfectly in his peripheral vision. The time it took his gaze to settle in full upon Francisco’s vehemently-strained expression, in particular, was long enough for Octavia’s world to come to a screeching halt.

  “You’ve…only had to use…”

  River trailed off, not so much as acknowledging Madrigal as he tried and failed to finish his thought aloud. For too long, he locked eyes with a still, wordless Francisco, unmoving and barely breathing. His face, knowing in the worst way, wasn’t subtle in the slightest--whether intentional or otherwise, Octavia was unsure. When River turned to Madrigal at last, he himself hardly had any breath to spare.

  “It’s…you, isn’t it?”

  Madrigal flinched. “What?”

  “You,” he spoke shakily, “have the Apex.”

  Madrigal tensed, returning his distressed gaze with significant distress in her own. Three sets of eyes that had drank in the heated exchange in silence now traveled to the Spirited Maestra in turn, wide with confusion. For what they knew of Lyra’s strength, they knew not her title--even now, so far down the line. Octavia almost regretted keeping them in the dark. She was floored, somewhat, that Lyra had never outright told Madrigal in the first place.

  “She...what?” Viola whispered.

  It was hardly a comfort that Josiah was equally as disoriented as she was, for how their horrified gazes locked again and again in between watching River’s every reaction. The intermissions of quiet that plagued his own disbelief were perhaps even more tense than whatever soft panic left his lips.

  His anxious eyes snapped to Briar, his tone rapidly rising to match. “Did you know? All of you?”

  Mint shook her head quickly. Briar, too, was just as quick to deny. “River, we had no idea, I swear!”

  And when they traveled to Octavia, her heart nearly stopped.

  “You…knew. You knew, didn’t you?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  “You knew the whole time?” River shouted, his voice trembling just as fiercely as he was.

  Octavia was far too close to trembling for a different reason. She couldn’t fight the way it crept into her voice instead. “River--”

  Already, he was after Madrigal. “You knew! All of you knew!”

  Madrigal winced, eyes wide with surprise beneath the weight of his outburst. “I don’t…understand,” she admitted weakly.

  “You’d just give that up? You don’t even use it? Do you have absolutely any idea what you’re taking for granted? There are people who need that! Why would you…why would you squander that?” he cried.

  “You wanna go giving yourself up left and right, that’s your problem! It’s sure as hell not anyone else’s!”

  Renato’s words were bitter and sharp, the cold eyes he offered the Spirited boy nearly ten times worse. His understanding of the situation meant nothing in the face of River’s desperate venom, and he stood his ground without remorse. River gritted his teeth.

  “We’re Spirited for a reason! To have the Apex on top of that is--”

  “It’s not her responsibility to be running around throwin’ her life away!” Renato growled. “Maybe you don’t give a damn about yours, but she’s got a whole lot to look forward to, and I’m gonna make sure it stays that way! She doesn’t owe you or anyone else one freakin’ second!”

  “Then why did it have to be you?” River nearly screamed at the Spirited girl alone.

  “River.”

  Briar’s voice, calm as it was, contrasted sharply with the boy’s own as he called above River’s frustration. With his shoulders heaving and his breaths ragged, bubbling over with despair and ire alike, it took River longer than a moment to turn to him instead. Every shaky step only made Octavia’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

  “How…badly do you want this?” the Soulful boy asked softly, his eyes pooling with pain. “How badly do you want to keep being a Maestro?”

  For all the times Octavia had seen River come dangerously close to tears, whether by her biting words and probing or otherwise, she’d never seen him truly cry. When sparkling seafoam broke at last, crashing upon a shore she wished she’d never see, the sight of his sorrow dripping agonizingly down his cheeks broke Octavia’s heart in half.

  “More than anything,” he pleaded, his voice cracking.

  Briar watched him silently for a moment. When he faced Octavia instead, the pain she expected to find was still notable. Even so, the smoldering fire that touched gently atop his pupils contrasted with the ice in his soul.

  “Octavia,” he began, “just…let him keep his. If you want to take ours, that’s fine, but let him have this. Ninety-five is enough for them to…do what they have to do. Please.”

  Octavia recoiled. “Briar, I can’t! It has to be all of them! You know that! He knows that!”

  River didn’t argue. Tearful as he was, silent all the same, his wide eyes were offered to Briar alone. The Soulful boy didn’t back down.

  “What will it take to convince you?” Briar tried.

  “Nothing! They all have to go!” Octavia shouted. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave any of them behind! This is what has to happen! This is how it has to be! I’m the Ambassador, Briar! This is my job!”

  “Octavia, please, there has to be some kind of compromise. I don’t…want to do this to him.”

  “I don’t want to either, but we don’t have a choice!”

  “Octavia,” Francisco interrupted, his gaze just as pleading as Briar’s own, “you can take ours, that’s fine, but leave him alone. That’s all we’re asking. It’s not much.”

  She felt sick to her stomach. “You guys, stop it! Please don’t make this harder than it has to be!”

  Briar pressed her still. “You could consider it a trade. Everything that Tacell was for…this one exception. Octavia, it’s all we’re asking for, please.”

  “Knock it off!” Octavia begged, her pulse quickening ever further. “You can’t pressure me into changing my mind! I have to do this! There’s no alternative!”

  “We’re not trying to pressure you, we’re not gonna hurt you, we’re not trying to start a problem,” Francisco begged, peeling one hand from his partner in a raised gesture for peace. Given the pain in Octavia’s own eyes, it was perhaps a reflex by which he averted his in turn as he implored the Ambassador. “We just want to talk this out together and come to a solution we can all agree with.”

  “Octavia, he’s lying!”

  Her head snapped to Harper so quickly that the muscles of her neck suffered the consequences. “What?”

  For how piercing the eyes she’d expected to find were, the strain on Harper’s face as he briefly captured Francisco’s roaming gaze was alarming. Unblinking, he shook his head with confusion. “I just don’t know why!”

  When Octavia’s panicked eyes darted back to Francisco for confirmation, the way she saw the boy grit his teeth was enough of a confirmation to make her dizzy. “W-Which part is he lying about?”

  It was too much at once. Francisco tensed. “Octavia, please, just leave him alone!”

  “Harper, what is he lying about?” she repeated with far more urgency.

  Royal Orleans was right at home in his hands. Octavia froze.

  “H-Harper?” she asked breathlessly.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, with his fingers settled comfortably onto every key, his razor-edged gaze cut as deeply into Francisco as was possible. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

  Francisco inhaled sharply. “Please don’t make this difficult. It’s all he wants.”

  The Willful boy’s words were lost on each and every Harmonial Instrument that emerged with agonizing slowness, cautiously aloft and positioned with care behind Octavia. The world was spinning.

  And when she saw the Ensemble emulate much the same motions, their own skilled hands moving right to where they were needed most, the pressure that blotted out the sky above challenged the darkened clouds that stole the sun. There was no light in River’s eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to carry Stratos’, unarmed in a sea of Maestros quietly tensed in a way she despised.

  “You don’t need to do this,” Octavia herself begged, her own pleading gaze grazing each of the Ensemble in turn.

  Briar shook his head, one gloved hand taut around the bow of his cello. “This is what’s most important to us.”

  River’s eyes flickered hastily to his, still distraught and tearful as they were. His fingers still trembled viciously around Renegadria all the same. “Y-You’re…”

  “If…this is really, truly what you want,” Briar offered softly, “then we’ll protect that.”

  For the softest light that touched upon seafoam, she greatly lamented the way her hands made for her own. Every scrape against the textured material and every tug of the zipper burned. She didn’t want River on the other end. With Stradivaria pressed against her cheek, Octavia cradled him not out of deception or obligation for once. She would rather have done so, in the moment.

  “You…don’t have to go this far for me,” River murmured, his voice still wobbling with every word.

  “We want to,” Francisco countered. Mint, too, nodded in agreement.

  And as she did so, with the distraction she was offered, Octavia found a reprieve to acknowledge those who held their breath patiently alongside her. It took her a moment to recognize their calm, and yet another to understand it. She inhaled. She exhaled.

  “I don’t deserve it,” River argued tearfully.

  Briar shook his head. “You deserve more than you think.”

  “We’ll…stand by you, if you want,” Francisco said, patting his instrument delicately for emphasis. “If you’re serious about making things better, we can…try our best, too. We won’t leave you alone like that.”

  Octavia drew lines with her eyes.

  “You don’t have to go that far,” River repeated, a single sob breaking free from his throat.

  Briar’s soft, faint smile was his compensation. “We want to,” he repeated on Francisco’s behalf. “All of us do.”

  It hardly took her more than a moment to decide.

  “You’re our leader. That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Francisco half-joked. “That’s not gonna change, with or without Tacell.”

  Every subtle nod was instant confirmation, unhesitant and unquestioning.

  “I…” River began, trailing off quickly. One palm parted with the accordion to wipe gently at his eyes, smearing his silky sleeve with tears.

  Octavia hated beyond hated settling the bow over Stradivaria’s strings. She prayed for a miracle in the form of River’s doubts. Stubborn as he was, she knew her luck.

  “I’m asking one more time, River,” she half-threatened, the words somewhat foreign on her tongue. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Let Rondelio go. You have your whole life to live. You’re so much more than just a Maestro. Please.”

  He stared her down. Where once were tears was a tumbling sea. To stand on the other side of his tidal waves, too, was crushing. He was silent. She wasn’t.

  “Please.”

  “I’m sorry it came to this,” River finally offered.

  Where Octavia would’ve much preferred to hear his crystalline laugh or bear witness to his soft smile, she was robbed of joy. Where she would’ve dreamed of finding comfort in his company once more, she found none beneath the clouded sky above. Where she’d come to adore seafoam, beautiful and spirited in every capacity, the determined ire she received in its place broke her heart into a thousand pieces.

  For how wonderfully she’d cherished River, it was with the loveliest notes of his pained spirit that he cracked that fragile tension in two, and his defiant melody stung her soul in every way.