are my two best friends, Miri and Saelis,” I reply. “Miri’s highborn, with all the confidence that comes from that. She jumps into anything that grabs her interest and figures out how to handle it later. Saelis is the son of one of my tutors. He’s much more grounded. And he’s kind.” I can feel my lips curving as I think of the two of them. “Sometimes, he’s a little like an old man in a young man’s body, but I like that about him. Miri adds sparks to everything. Saelis makes sure we don’t catch fire.”
“Hmm.” Nimh casts me a sidelong look, and though her eyes look incredibly tired, she manages a hint of a teasing smile. My distraction is working, at least a little.
“In fairness,” I say, “he did think the glider was a very bad idea when I built it.”
That earns another ghost of a smile. “You must miss them very much.”
“Very much.” I hesitate only for a moment—I want to share this with her. “I can show you a picture of them. Look.” I bring my chrono to life so I can navigate to my photos, our faces palely illuminated by the light of the screen.
“And you are still sure this device is not magical?” she asks—I think she might be teasing.
“Technological,” I reply with a faint smile, the same way I did the first time she saw my chrono. “My people invented these about a century ago, although those were pretty primitive. Now everyone has one, and they can do all sorts of things. They track our health, give us directions, even let us talk to people who are all the way on the other end of the archipelago.”
“It speaks to those who are far away?” Nimh’s eyes flick up to mine. “Why have you not used this far-speech to tell your people you survived your fall?”
“I tried.” I keep my eyes on the chrono for the moment, afraid to let her see just how much that still hurts. “The signal doesn’t reach down here.”
Nimh leans forward, studying the display, and then lurches back as I touch the button that projects it as a three-dimensional holograph. She flashes me a skeptical look. “North, this is magic. There are hints of such things in our most treasured relics. But even I have never seen something like this.”
“It really isn’t magic,” I say helplessly. “It exists because of centuries of scientific advancements and experimentation and invention. I could take it apart and show you all the circuits inside.”
She nods eagerly, eyes lighting with curiosity. “Please, I would like that.”
“Well …” I check myself, my grin turning somewhat sheepish. “I actually can’t take it apart, not without breaking it. I wouldn’t know how to put it back together.”
Nimh raises an eyebrow at me, and an instant before she speaks, I know what she’s going to say. “You told me that magic is just science you cannot explain. But here is more of your technology that you cannot explain. How can you be so certain it contains no magic?”
I can’t help it—I laugh. “Just … look at the picture, okay?”
It’s one of my favorites, from about a year ago, taken when the three of us went on a weekend trip to one of the smaller islands in the Alciel archipelago. Saelis is in the middle, one arm around Miri, the other around me in a fake choke hold. My face is contorted with laughter, and Miri’s side-eyeing the both of us, her cheeks pink.
Nimh studies it, the challenge in her expression fading away to be replaced by something softer. “You seem very fond of each other.” It’s almost wistful, that look in her eyes.
I pause then, because there’s an easy answer to that observation, and a hard one. There’s one that agrees that, yes, they are my best friends, and I care about them. And there’s one that opens up a far more private part of me.
“I am very fond of them,” I admit. “We wanted to make a three—Miri and Saelis and me. We … we all felt that.”
“Such unions are not allowed in your land?”
I can feel her eyes on me, though I keep mine on the picture. “Not for a prince. It simplifies matters of heredity when it comes to my eventual heir.” I swallow, then continue, “I think the two of them will end up a pair. And truly, I’m happy for them. I want the very best for both of them.”
“You sound like Menaran,”