Sviya sat curled up on a couch in the Prav'sudja living room, paging through a law book, while M'yu tinkered on his linkcard next to her. This thing could actually program, but his days of hacking into security systems were over. Hacking would have been rather redundant, actually, since he could manage the whole ship's security with the click of a button.
In the corner of the room, Aevryn and Ruslan sparred together. It was probably good for them to get all that restless energy out now, before the Prav'sudja was full of people. A smile ticked up the corner of his lips.
"Too slow, old man," Ruslan said as he scored a hit with his foil.
Aevryn hooked his foot around Ruslan's ankle, and the boy crashed to the floor. "Really?" Aevryn asked, standing over him. His brow quirked, but he offered Ruslan his hand and pulled the boy to his feet.
Ashya clapped. "Again!"
"I won't fall for that trick twice," Ruslan promised, setting up.
Aevryn tapped their blades together. "I'm counting on it."
Sviya looked over the top of her book at M'yu. "Do you have any more pardon requests?"
He checked his linkcard. In preparation for the resettlement of the city, M'yu had asked two things of Aevryn. First, to issue every citizen who wanted one, both Capitalfolk and Gloamers, their very own linkcard. It was a ridiculously expensive proposal, but they paid for it using the money Xten had been embezzling. M'yu would have paid for it out of his own skin once he saw the looks the Gloamers gave him as he presented the cards—for the first time, a light shone in their eye like maybe they belonged to something bigger than their one-road neighborhood. Like maybe someone cared.
The next thing M'yu had asked for was a second chance—not for him, who had already received too many do-overs from Aevryn to count, but for his people. Anyone who wanted to could plead their case before the Prince and beg for leniency, for a slate wiped clean. We'll be leaving this world behind soon, M'yu had told him. Our people should be able to leave their pasts behind too.
"No notifications yet," he said to Svi. "Although I imagine we'll get a slew of walk-ins before the day is out."
She hit him with a pillow. "Don't make it sound like you don't enjoy it."
A crooked smile lit his lips. He advocated for most of the petitioners himself, even though Sviya kept trying to convince him to let her help. But this wasn't about legal loopholes and obscure defenses. Most of these people were guilty, and they were here to admit that, not shirk it. This was about understanding their story, their pain, and their path to repentance. This was about rising out of the old regime and finding their place in the new, about compassion and forgiveness and all the things Aevryn had dropped in M'yu's lap like it was nothing.
M'yu wanted to give these people the same chance, and Aevryn rarely refused what he asked for them.
The door cracked open, and Evriss poked his head through. "I'm sorry to disturb you all, but a petitioner is waiting in the parlor."
"Told you," M'yu said, winking at Sviya as he pushed up.
"If it's so-o much trouble..." she sing-songed. M'yu brushed her off with a wave and followed Evriss out of the room.
The old caretaker showed him to the parlor, then left him to meet with his client. The figure's back was turned. A coat of rags hung over their thin, trembling frame.
"You don't have to be afraid," M'yu said, pulling out a chair for the person. "Why don't we talk?"
The figure turned, and M'yu's breath caught. Karsya's once fiery-red hair was dulled with dirt and soot, the old long locks cut off to springs around her ears. Her face was thin with hunger, and her shoulders drooped, eyes not quite meeting his. Demurely, she murmured, "They said you were the one doing this."
M'yu collapsed into the chair he'd pulled out for her. He scrubbed his face, and his voice came out in a croak. "Three years?"
It had been that long since the eve of Washfall. When Fesryn Tam disappeared, M'yu had sent people to search for Karsya, afraid the old magnate would discover the truth of everything he'd blamed M'yu for and get his revenge against her instead. But there had been no trace of either of them.
She shrugged, shoulders almost folding into themselves. "What else did you expect me to do?"
And M'yu didn't have words to answer that. He had tried often to convince himself that he didn't care what had happened to her, that whatever it was, she had brought it upon herself. Late nights awake disillusioned him of that lie, but he still wasn't sure what the truth was. He'd dreaded someone finding her almost as much as them finding her body, and was both ashamed and relieved when she had simply disappeared.
"Look," she said, meeting his eye for the first time. "If you're gonna throw me in jail or—" Her voice wobbled. "Or execute me or whatever, just do it."
"That, um." M'yu rubbed his hands together, trying to speak past the growing lump in his throat. "That's not exactly how it works."
"I can't live like this anymore, M'yu." Her eyes reflected the light in the room, and she swiped at them with dirt-stained fingers. "I bet on the wrong people, and I just—" She wrapped her arms around herself, looking down. "I can't do it."
"You destroyed our relationship."
"I know," she whispered.
"You turned on me. You gave up on me."
"I know."
"You—" His voice broke, and he pushed out of his chair to wrap her in his arms. She stiffened, but hugged him back, and for just a second, they were kids in his mother's house again, with nothing between them but dreams and stories and hopes. "You came back."
She pulled back, tearful eyes searching his face. "So you're not going to do anything to me?"
He squeezed her shoulders, stepping back as well. And then he stepped back again, trying to regain his composure. "What happens to you is up to the Prince."
She looked up at him through her wet lashes. M'yu's heart clenched, and he looked away.
"I'll petition for you. But," he repeated, "what happens to you is up to the Prince."
She stepped closer. "And what are you going to petition?"
M'yu's mind spun. He stepped to the side, grabbing hold of the back of the chair. "Karsya."
He shook his head, but she stepped up to the chair anyway. "Yes?"
"We can't do this." His head shook again, and he took another step back. "Not anymore."
"M'yu—"
He held up a hand. "I know you're sorry. Or at least I'd like to believe you are. And I'd like to believe that one day, with time, we can be friends again." His eyes met hers, and he swallowed hard. "I never wanted anything to happen to you, and I still don't. I'll ask Aevryn for clothes for you and a room with the other travelers and a light sentencing. Most people get assigned a job or some type of community service."
That's what had happened for Ruslan. He had agreed to work as a Gold House servant for a year, scrubbing floors with them and serving Aevryn. M'yu wasn't sure how he'd felt about it until one day, he overheard Ruslan offering to help one of the other servants. M'yu had hid and listened as they'd talked and joked like... normal people. Like servants weren't second-class citizens. He could still be a jerk, but... he was less of one. He hoped maybe the service-sentencing gave other people a chance to think too. A chance to change.
If that's what Karsya wanted.
"It's the closest shot at a second life anyone can get," he assured her. His voice betrayed him, and he looked away.
"M'yu—"
"I'll always love you, Karsya." He stepped back again and caught her eying him with a trembling lip. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other citizens to settle and a ship to prepare for departure."
He escaped the room and leaned against the door. Part of him felt guilty for leaving her, but he pushed it away. She was safe. She would be taken care of.
It was more than she would have done for him.
A weight fell from his shoulders. His head lifted, and he stepped forward and stepped again until he'd made it back to the living room with his family.
Sviya rose from the couch and twined her fingers through his. "The Tsar says the ship is ready!" She squeezed his hand, and M'yu imagined her high heels were the only thing keeping her from rocking back and forth on her feet.
In the corner, Tsar Peitros stood with Aevryn, excitedly counting off system checks on his fingers. The old man's hair wisped through the air as he gestured, and a bit of grease painted his wrinkled face. His ship, not much bigger than a hover, had landed in the Capital shortly after M'yu had explained the Signal Cloaker to Aevryn. They'd immediately shut the system off. According to his ship's internal clock, the centuries old man had only lived ninety-one years; according to the way he gallivanted around the Prav'sudja's engines, though, he wasn't even that old.
"I still can't believe he didn't take the throne," Sviya muttered out of the corner of her mouth, like she was afraid Peitros would overhear her.
M'yu laughed, then whispered back, "I think he prefers the ship's circuits to the city's courts." The legendary leader and engineer seemed more than happy to let Aevryn wear the crown, just so long as they were headed back into the stars.
"What are we whispering about?" Ashya whispered, suddenly beside him.
M'yu jumped, then picked her up and spun her around. She squealed, and he set her down. "We're going home."
Her nose crinkled. "We're already home."
"No, we're going home, Ashya," he reminded, pulling up a holodisplay on his linkcard. A picture of the beautiful planet, full of flowing water and lush plants, hovered over his card. "To paradise."
"Well," Peitros boomed from the corner, eyes sparkling. "That's the full specs, nothing amiss, all set and ready. When are we going to let the people in?"
Aevryn cast a steady eye over the room. Ruslan straightened. Ashya bounced up and down. Sviya met Aevryn's gaze evenly, but M'yu knew she was holding her breath.
Aevryn raised his brow at M'yu. "What do you say, Minister of Security? Shall we let the people in?"
A grin crept across M'yu's lips. "Let's get out of here."
The girls squealed, and Svi and Ashya tugged him to a balcony overlooking the grand mouth of the Prav'sudja. Aevryn and Peitros joined them at the rail, both adjusting crowns they almost never wore. M'yu drew a deep breath. His eyes flicked to his teacher's, and the man nodded.
With a click of his linkcard, M'yu opened up the mouth of the Prav'sudja to all who wanted to enter. A crowd waited outside, and what things hadn't been transported already to their rooms rested in packs on their backs. Children sat on their parent's shoulders. Couples held hands, and neighbors clapped each other on the shoulder. Together, rich and poor, Gloamer and Cap, side-by-side they walked into the starship and left behind the winter of this world once and for all.
THE END