The snow hadn’t let up since dawn, and by the looks of it, it wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

  The world beyond the thick-paned windows swirled with white. The hearth in the main room crackled steadily, filling Jolaine’s home with warmth, and chasing away the sharpness of the wind rattling the shutters as a kettle hissed softly from its permanent place over the hearth.

  Kei shifted her carving knife, turning the half-finished mask in her hands. A curl of wood peeled free under the blade, tumbling down to her lap and piling against the blanket wrapped around her legs. The final design was just beginning to show itself, with rough edges and uneven curves. Still, she felt she could see it better than before. Soon, she would be able to paint it, and it would be complete.

  She glanced out the window into the storm, and watched as a stone bird perched on a nearby rooftop, seemingly unbothered by the wind. As she watched longer, she saw more totem creatures dancing in the snow, as enduring as the spirits themselves, the only living things that dared to brave the cold.

  She turned back to the interior, watching the others from her corner chair.

  Across the room, Corrin lounged by the hearth, legs stretched out, arms folded behind his head as his eyes lazily traced the cracks and knots in the low ceiling. He was the very image of a man determined not to move until spring.

  Next to him, Jolaine sat in a rocking chair, swaying back and forth gently as she cradled a mug of tea in her hands.

  Their conversation floated lazily over the crackling of the fire.

  “Snowfall like this, a man could pretend he’s useful simply laying still,” the older woman mused, looking pointedly at Corrin.

  His response came quickly, not missing a beat. “That’s the plan. Kick back, relax, and avoid work for the day.”

  “Avoid it long enough and it’ll come knocking on your door.”

  Corrin cupped a hand around his lips. “Sorry, work! I’m not home!”

  Jolaine snorted, her eyes crinkling with brief laughter. “A whole room of layabouts today,” she smiled, glancing sidelong around the room. “You’d think Ein’al himself had ordered us to stay indoors.”

  “Considering the storm, perhaps he has,” Wyn added, looking up from the book resting open in his lap. His own tea cup sat close at hand, half-finished with a thin curl of steam rising up from the cup. He took a sip and gestured out the window vaguely.

  “I suppose it is his way of dressing the city for the festival,” Jolaine suggested. “Only two days left now.”

  The Winter Festival. It wasn’t uncommon for cities to mark the halfway point of the deep winter with a festival of some kind, and Titan’s Pass seemed no exception. Kei had seen it in the garlands hung from doors. She had smelt it in the scent of spiced cakes drifting through the streets. She’d felt it as Jolaine had sold more and more masks in preparation for the festival.

  She wanted to finish her mask before then, to don during the festival along with everyone else. Jolaine—despite being a vendor of the masks—insisted that creating your own was the best way to connect with the spirits. Kei had been to only a few festivals in her youth, and she found herself looking forward to this one.

  For a moment, her thoughts drifted past the snowbound streets of Titan’s Pass, back to a manor far away. Home. Whatever that meant these days.

  But she shook the thoughts from her head, enjoying the warmth as Wyn tried to puzzle out which herbs made up that morning’s blend, and Jolaine delighted in his guesses, right or wrong. Everyone had settled into their place. It was the lazy sort of day that felt like it could last forever.

  There was absolutely nothing special about it.

  Footsteps came down the hallway and Lilian stepped around the corner in a nightgown, a thick blanket still draped over her thin shoulders like an oversized shawl. Her cheeks were pale, but her faint smile carried the same warmth as always.

  “Well, don’t you all look industrious,” she teased, her voice a bit hoarse. “Seems I’m the last to crawl out of bed again.”

  Corrin waved a lazy hand in greeting. “I’ll have you know I’m working very hard at laying still.”

  Lilian pulled her blanket tighter as she eased into a chair and accepted a cup of tea from Wyn along with a bowl of porridge. “This weather has me craving something sweet. Why don’t we bake something? It’ll give the oven a reason to stay warm.”

  Corrin’s head tilted, half-interested and half-bored. “Cookies?”

  “Something like that.” Lilian’s eyes glinted with quiet amusement. “Is that an offer of assistance?”

  Corrin smirked. “I’m an expert at standing around and tasting batter if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Lilian laughed quietly, and after finishing her food, the two of them drifted towards the kitchen, half-bickering, half-planning, as Wyn kept glancing over out of the corner of his eye.

  He leaned over conspiratorially and whispered to Jolaine. “Does Lilian really know how to bake? Because Corrin wasn’t lying about his skills.”

  Jolaine grimaced. “She… used to? I haven’t known her to bake in years, frankly I thought she’d lost the energy for it. She seems chipper today, ironically.”

  “I suppose we’ll find out,” he muttered. He glanced down at his cup, staring at the yellowish liquid within. “White pine needle?”

  “Nope,” Jolaine cackled as he guessed wrong once more. “Trust me, you’d smell it if it were.”

  Kei smiled, remaining where she was as she kept carving in the steady rhythm that let her thoughts roam. The festival, her family, Taravast, the journey ahead… She wondered if her brother had found any new solution to the mess back home, he hadn’t sent her a new letter.

  Her finger slipped, leaving a small chip in the wood.

  She still hadn’t sent him a response. The letter sat half-finished in her room.

  Maybe she was just afraid to say she’d accomplished nothing. The thought didn’t hurt like it once had, but putting it to paper still wasn’t easy. After all, she would return from her year long journey with nothing to show for it.

  There was a loud bang as a bowl clattered against the floor, breaking her train of thought. Corrin’s voice followed, laughing. “That wasn’t my fault!”

  Lilian muttered something as well, but Kei didn’t catch what it was.

  She looked over at the countertop where the two were working—it was a disaster, flour was everywhere, as if the snow had crept under the door and come inside. Though they were laughing, it seemed they were mid-argument about having added too much sugar.

  Wyn stood up, glancing at the mixing bowls with a look of disgust, and then with a deep sigh, walked into the kitchen to help.

  Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work, his quiet presence steadying the chaos with practiced ease. He corrected the measurements, adjusted the oven, and coaxed the dough into the proper shapes, all while Lilian leaned against the table, watching him with mock offense.

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  “Show-off,” she murmured.

  Wyn grinned sheepishly. “Habit,” he replied, rolling a portion of the dough between his palms.

  As the baking team finished up their work, Kei’s eyes caught on a small wooden board beneath a shelf in the corner of the room. It was half-hidden, and only visible from her vantage point in the corner chair, but she thought it seemed familiar.

  “Is that…” she walked over and pulled the board out, along with a small leather pouch. Blowing the dust off revealed a beautifully crafted wooden board with a grid painted into groves along its surface.

  “Ah,” Jolaine’s tone was slightly surprised. “I’d forgotten about that. Do you play?”

  Kei brushed her fingers over the board and set it down on the table. She poured the bag out, small wooden pieces spilling out onto the board.

  She picked one up, smiling as she inspected the painted symbol on it, crisp even after years of wear.

  Corrin wandered over, losing interest in the baking as his eyes caught on the interesting set. “What’s that?” He picked up one of the pieces—polished wooden tiles, each marked with a word. “Blade?”

  “It’s called King’s Table,” Jolaine said. “It’s a game. Have you never played?”

  Corrin shook his head. “Never heard of it, is it fun?”

  Kei nodded. “I used to play it all the time back home, it’s perfect for a day like today.”

  Corrin eyed her wearily, but he plopped down across the table from her anyways. “Well then why delay? How do I play?”

  “It’s a bit tricky to start,” Jolaine said, separating out the pieces and setting them up on the board. “These are your nine soldiers, they can only move one square forward. Behind them we have two mages, on each end. They move diagonally, like this. Then you have five special pieces—King, Scholar, Blade, Beast, and Architect.”

  Corrin’s eyes lit up with understanding. “One for each of the five kings then.”

  “Exactly,” Kei said. “Your king, Edrian, is the leader. If he’s taken, you lose. Each of them can move in their own way. The king moves in any direction, but only one space. Your beast piece—it's also called the horse—can jump over other pieces like this. The blade can strike across straight lines, or move one space forward diagonally like this…”

  She explained the gist of the rules to him, teaching him how the game worked at its most basic. Surprisingly, he caught on quickly, and soon enough they were ready to play a game. Just before they began, Lilian and Wyn walked back over, the cookies set in the oven.

  “Ooh King’s Table!” Lilian’s face brightened. “I used to love this game. I’ll play whoever wins.”

  “It’s a game?” Wyn looked interested. “How do you play?”

  As Lilian began to tell him the rules, Kei and Corrin’s game began.

  It didn’t last very long, and Corrin’s king was taken in only twelve moves. As Kei picked it up and slid her scholar into its place, he blinked in shock.

  “What just happened?”

  Kei grinned. “I kicked your butt, that’s what.”

  Lilian put a hand on Corrin’s shoulder. “You can’t just think about attacking. If you don’t defend your king, that’s exactly what will happen. Here, watch how I do it and you’ll see what I mean.”

  Kei resisted smiling as she slid the pieces back into place. “Let’s begin.”

  Lilian did last longer, but it was still one sided, and as she realized her king had been trapped, she sighed in defeat.

  “Oh you’re good.”

  Corrin and Wyn were studying the board seriously. “Wait what? I don’t see it.”

  Wyn whispered into Corrin’s ear, and the white haired boy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. Damn.”

  Kei reset the board. “Anyone else?”

  Jolaine grinned. “I’ll take you on.”

  The third game lasted the longest, and Kei had to admit, Jolaine was actually quite good at the game herself. Unfortunately, Kei had played a lot of King’s Table. The quiet game had fascinated her when she’d first discovered it, and though she didn’t consider herself an expert, there was no one left in the Ameas household who could beat her.

  As Jolaine’s king found itself trapped, Kei let out a sigh of relief.

  “That was a great game,” she admitted.

  The old woman scowled. “Where are the privileges of age when I need them?” Her face softened a moment later though, and she chuckled at Kei. “You’re quite the player, young lady.”

  Kei suppressed a bragging smile. King’s Table was one of the few things she truly excelled at. “Thank you Eldress. I’ve always loved the game.”

  “Alright alright, that’s enough from the queen of games” Corrin said, pulling the board away from her. “Now let us lowly peons battle for scraps. Let’s go Wyn, you and me!”

  They took seats on opposite sides of the board, facing the game with the same seriousness as a life-and-death battle. After a long, drawn out, sloppy game, Wyn eked out a victory. He celebrated with a victory dance, like he’d just gotten the best news of his life, as Corrin slumped over the board in defeat.

  The home got swept into a fever as competition over the game ran rampant. Kei won several more matches with varying handicaps, and Corrin and Wyn teamed up to pull out a win against Lilian before battling it out amongst themselves once more.

  Jolaine was only ever beaten by Kei, her strategies refined with years of play, whereas Lilian seemed to rely on knowing a few common openings, and having the basics down.

  Wyn and Corrin’s matches were exciting to watch in many ways. Corrin’s pieces charged forwards, making wild sacrifices and throwing caution to the wind, occasionally pulling out a surprisingly clever attack, while Wyn tended to focus on protecting his king, using his architect to set up strong defensive positions.

  They played long after the cookies were done, and well into dinner, tiles clicking softly against the board as they ate stew, laughed and strategized together. The storm didn’t let up, but no one seemed to mind, and the day stretched long and thin, like warm dough before rising in the oven.

  The games grew slower, and the laughter softened. The light from the windows slowly dimmed, replaced entirely by the hearth and a few candles, flickering against the old walls of the home.

  At some point, Jolaine set her mug aside and stretched, wincing as her knees popped.

  “That’s enough for me tonight,” she said, voice weary. “The lot of you can keep at it if you like, but this old woman is off to bed.”

  Wyn leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. He glanced out the window, where the snow had slowed just a bit. “I suppose that’s not a bad idea. I might as well get an early start tomorrow.”

  “And here I thought I’d be napping all day,” Corrin yawned.

  Lilian stood too, stifling a cough into her sleeve. “Worth staying up for, I’d say.” She pulled her blanket tightly once more before turning to the hallway. “Goodnight.”

  Wyn offered a small wave as he tossed a few more logs into the hearth to keep it burning for the night. “Sleep well.”

  One by one, they drifted off, and eventually, Kei found herself alone. The house was quiet, the silence broken only by the sigh of the wind against the shutters.

  She walked quietly over to the window and pressed a finger to the glass. It was wet with condensation, fogging the glass so the view of the outside was hazy. The window squeaked as she dragged her hand across it, clearing a slit for her to see through.

  In the street outside, a stone rabbit stared back at her, sitting still in the snow. The golden cracks in its body glimmered, the only sign of movement from the creature.

  Her thoughts circled the letter in her room. She hadn’t told her brother what had happened, and why not? She hadn’t told Corrin and Wyn the truth of her situation, and why not? Perhaps there was something to be said of her family’s secrets, but the more she thought about it, the less she cared.

  Would she hold everything in until she returned to Taravast? She’d send a boring letter to her brother, and she wouldn’t say anything to Corrin and Wyn. Neither was a lie. She could keep everything to herself until she returned to Taravast. She could hold onto everything just a little longer.

  She walked up the stairs towards her room at the end of the hall. A bit of light seeped out from under Corrin and Wyn’s door—they would still be up, they hadn’t left too long ago.

  She paused in front of their door, staring at the handle. Her brother wouldn’t be mad at her, she knew that. Corrin and Wyn wouldn’t be bothered, she knew that.

  It was a random, lazy sort of day. There was nothing special about it. But she didn’t need a reason. No great push, no grand event. It was just a choice.

  Before her nerves could betray her, Kei gripped the handle, and pushed the door open.

  “There’s something I have to—”

  Kei froze.

  Corrin and Wyn both looked over, halfway through changing into their sleeping clothes.

  After a moment, Corrin gasped in mock horror, clutching his tunic to his chest. “Kei! My chastity!”

  Wyn casually finished pulling his pants on, though he was still shirtless. “Did you need something Kei?”

  She stared for a beat, then turned on her heel and shut the door behind her.

  From inside she heard Corrin say, “Well, there goes my innocence,” followed by a round of snickering.

  Kei leaned against the door, and she couldn’t help it.

  She laughed.

  Yeah, there was nothing to be worried about.