They walked to the edge of town together. Worry churned in Mithra’s stomach, worry she knew she could do nothing about short of venturing outside the Veil herself. She forcefully steered her thoughts towards happier topics.

  “Congratulations on the promotion,” she said. She was genuinely happy for her uncle, reaching one of the highest combat ranks so young. But it was hard to show that happiness in that moment.

  “Don’t mention it.” Duncan waved a hand dismissively. “Your mother had me beat by at least five years.”

  “It’s pointless to compare yourself to the youngest purple robe in history,” she said.

  “You do that yourself,” he countered. “Well, you have a chance. You are pretty good. Do you think you’ll get a water mark, like her?

  “We’ll find out tomorrow.” Mithra shrugged. “I’ll make do with anything that I can use in combat.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  They continued the walk in comfortable, familiar silence, each lost in their own thoughts and worries, but happy for the company.

  Finally, Duncan asked the question Mithra silently hoped he wouldn’t.

  “So, how’s your father?”

  “He’s fine,” she answered. “Same as always.”

  “He’s not drinking again, is he?” Duncan pressed.

  “Next topic?” She really didn’t want to spoil the short moments she had with her uncle talking about her father. “You’re gonna see him anyway, ask him.”

  “I will.” Duncan stopped suddenly in the middle of the road. “He’s taking good care of you?”

  “I’m fine, really. Can we not talk about it? Please.”

  “Okay.” He gave her a look that told her the conversation wasn’t truly over. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

  Was she? Thinking about it, no, not for the ceremony itself. The Marking was more like a formality to her, not the life defining moment it was for others her age. She knew her path, and she was determined to walk it. No matter what tools she had to do that with. On the other hand, it was a first step to becoming a Guardian. And for that, she was more than thrilled.

  “More excited about basic,” she answered. “It’s gonna be fun. New people to train with, new things to learn.”

  “I want to see you say that to the instructors,” Duncan laughed. “They’re gonna have you running extra laps at the slightest mention of fun.”

  Mithra shrugged. “I like running. How do you think I’ll do, compared to others?”

  “You’ll beat up half your class on the first day, knowing you. You’ll do amazing.” He clapped her on the back. “Let’s keep moving, it’s getting dark.”

  Before long they stopped at a lonely, wooden house at the outskirts of town. It was surrounded by a spacious garden, the flowers and bushes kept in organized sections and trimmed to perfection. Mithra hated it. A waste of money and space. She preferred the look of wild flowers and tall grass to this artificial perfection, but her father wouldn’t have it. It wouldn't do for a family of a famous Guardian to be anything less than perfect.

  Duncan knocked on the door and without waiting for an answer, they entered.

  “Mithra?” The voice of her father sounded from the kitchen. “You’re late. Where’ve you bee— Oh, Duncan, welcome. I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “Hello, Steve.” Duncan stiffly reached out a hand to her father. “How’ve you been?”

  “Old same, old same. Come sit, Mithra’ll get you something to eat.”

  “No need, really. I ate not too long ago,” he said.

  “Tea, then,” her father insisted.

  They entered the house and Mithra moved to the kitchen without a word. She positioned herself so she could see the living room table, where the men sat. The room was clean, as always, but the cooking fire went out without her to keep it going. She took out matches from a drawer and struck one. No luck. She tried again, only for the match to break.

  With a corner of her eye she noticed Duncan snapping his fingers under the table. Fire started in the stove immediately. He gave her a strained smile.

  While the men exchanged pleasantries, she steeped and drained the tea leaves, adding some crushed raspberries. Despite it being late autumn, the fruits were fresh—courtesy of a local Shaper.

  She gave a steaming cup to Duncan. Her father gestured dismissively.

  “Go and get ready for tomorrow,” he said. “You need to be well-rested and presentable. It’s an important occasion.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied meekly. Duncan looked like he was about to say something, but she shook her head slightly. He got the message.

  The stairs creaked as she walked upstairs. Leaving the door to her room open just a smidge to better hear the conversation below, she made sure everything was ready for the next day.

  There wasn’t much to prepare, really. The outfit consisted of a layered, pristinely white robe. She picked it up earlier in the week from Margie, who cleaned and steamed it for her. Even so, she checked it over for any slight wrinkle or imperfection. It had to be perfect.

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  Satisfied with her examination, Mithra picked up a small shield-shaped badge from her desk. While cuts of the robes varied with trends, this was the one unchanging part of every marking. The same since the very first ceremony.

  Under a false bottom in her drawer there was another badge, hidden. Only this one wasn’t the dull gray color of metal, but a deep blue of the sea. Her mother’s badge. It weighed heavily on Mithra’s mind. Father almost sold it when they fell on hard times years ago, together with most other things. Mithra remembered hiding it from him, terrified of the consequences if he found out. He never did.

  Putting everything back in its place, she silently crept into the hallway and sat at the top of the stairs, listening.

  “... in the morning.” Duncan’s voice.

  “That’s a shame. I thought you’ll stay for a bit, help Mithra out with her blessing.” Father.

  “She’ll handle herself alright,” her uncle replied. “She’s strong, and with a good head on her shoulders.”

  “That’s how I raised her,” her father scoffed. “She better be perfect. She’d bring shame to her mother otherwise.”

  “You know what I think about that, Steve. Don’t make me start.”

  “Fine, but you must admit she has a lot of Lisa in her. More Lisa than me, thank the Gods.”

  “That she does.” A sigh from Duncan. “I’m worried about her.”

  “What for?” Another scoff. “The more like her mother she is, the better. She’ll be the best Guardian there ever was.”

  “That’s an awful lot of expectations to put on someone barely old enough to drink, Steve.” The anger in Duncan’s voice surprised Mithra. “Let her live her life however she wants it.”

  “You know she wants that life. You’ve seen her. I’m just pushing her to help her.”

  “You push her and she’ll burn bright, yes. But she’ll burn out just as fast. Just like Lisa.”

  A scrape of wood on wood and the sound of a chair slamming against the floor. Mithra crept further down the stairs to see what was happening.

  Her father was standing, one hand on the table and the other pointing a finger at Duncan.

  “She didn’t burn out. She was murdered.” His voice was flat, threatening. Instinctively, Mithra retreated a bit.

  “By who?” Duncan raised his voice. “She died in childbirth, Steve. And I swear to the Gods if you say Mithra killed her, I’ll do something I’ll regret.”

  “You won’t catch me saying that. But Lisa wasn’t acting like herself long before. I’m telling you, after she came back from that one mission she…” He trailed off, gripping the table so hard splinters flew. “And neither you nor the other bastards ever told me what happened.”

  “Nothing happened!” Duncan slammed the table and fire spread outwards from his hand. He quickly controlled himself and it died out, leaving only smoke and burnt wood. “People die in childbirth. Stop deluding yourself.”

  In this one respect, Duncan was wrong. People died in childbirth, but not her mother. Mithra wasn’t the one that killed her mother. Someone else did. Even despite the morning’s disappointment, her belief in that wasn’t shaken in the least.

  “She—” her father started. Duncan stood up.

  “Enough. I’ll pay for the table. Don’t drink the money away.” He moved quickly to the stairs and met Mithra’s gaze without surprise. He said nothing. She slowly walked back to her room, closing the door behind her.

  She could hear Duncan in the adjacent room, slamming the door and pacing rapidly. It took him a few minutes to calm down and stop. Instead, he left the guest room and knocked on her door, the way he always did. Three fast taps, one slow, two fast. She opened and they sat down on her bed in awkward silence.

  “Your mother would’ve been proud of you,” he said after a few minutes.

  More silence.

  Duncan fell backwards onto her bed with a sigh. “I miss her.”

  “I know,” Mithra replied.

  The silence stretched.

  “You know, you don’t have to become a Guardian,” Duncan said. “I can get you a comfortable job in the capital, no matter what mark you get. I’ll be able to visit more often, too.”

  “I don’t want that.” She let herself fall backwards as well. “Besides, imagine me stuck in some cubicle, sorting letters. I think I’d explode.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You’d kill some poor bastard on your second day, I reckon.”

  She hesitated, before asking. “Do you really have to leave tomorrow? At least stay for the ceremony.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What’s so urgent in the capital?” Mithra pushed. ”You arriving a few hours late won’t kill anyone.”

  “It just might.” There was an unusual seriousness in his voice. “Hard times are coming, Mithra. We have to be prepared.”

  “That’s ominous.”

  “Not more ominous than a royal courier,” he sighed. “If anything happens, go straight to me.”

  “That’s even worse. What exactly is going to happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They laid like this for a while, until Duncan ruffled her hair and got up. “Goodnight, Mithra. Take care of yourself.”

  “Night, uncle.”

  He left, but Mithra couldn’t shake the eerie feeling. It was unlike her uncle to worry so much. If something really was going to happen, she had to be ready.

  ?

  The sun slowly rose, first rays of sunlight hitting the grass outside and bathing it in the warm blue light of morning. Mithra stood outside with Duncan, her father still asleep.

  He stretched his arms, yawning. “Well, time to go.”

  She yawned too. “See you on the road.”

  “Ha, the next time we’ll see each other you’ll still be a trainee,” he said, with more energy in his voice this time.

  “You’re gonna visit me in basic?” she asked, suddenly wide awake.

  “Maybe, we’ll see,” he replied. “I’ll probably stay in the capital for a while, so I don’t see why not.”

  Mithra winced. “You know I don’t have the money to afford that. I’m stuck with the free facilities in Moringal.”

  “No you’re not.” He gave her a sly smile. “I paid for everything in full already.”

  “Wha—”

  “And I bribed old Bill to ferry you to the capital. Not as fast as a horse, but it’ll do.”

  “I—” Mithra hugged Duncan tightly. He felt unnaturally warm, especially in the cold morning air. “Thank you.”

  He hugged her back. “All the best for my favorite niece.”

  “I’m your only niece.”

  “Exactly.” He disentangled from her hug. “See you soon.”

  “Take care on the road, uncle.”

  He walked away and Mithra followed him with her eyes. When he left her sight, she ran back into the house with excitement. Training in the capital? She knew Duncan had money, but there was money, and there was money. While Guardians provided everything from food to board during training, the admittance fee itself was extraordinarily expensive.

  Mithra refocused. There would be time to be excited over that. First, the Marking. Even if it was only a formality in her mind, it was still a step that needed taking. She changed into the white robes, taking care not to leave any creases. It was longer than she was used to, reaching almost to the ground. She’d have to be careful on the way to the church. The badge was pinned to the fabric, a cold weight sitting over her heart.

  She gave herself one last look-over in the mirror. Her hair was sitting neatly in a braid, the red contrasting with her robes. It looked perfect. She was ready.

  It was time to get her mark.