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“What do you think he’s going to make for us? Paimon didn’t know Alhaitham knew how to cook!” She’s practically drooling already, even though you just had lunch.
“No, I think he’s getting it catered,” you say.
“Oh, like when Nilou threw us a feast after we rescued Nahida!”
“Exactly, but with even better food this time. He did ask us to dress up.”
You laugh at Paimon’s happy dance as she thinks about all the gourmet dishes she’ll get to eat. It’s not like Alhaitham to be so formal. You were both surprised to receive an invitation in neat script on nice cardstock a few weeks ago:
Esteemed Traveler and Paimon,
I humbly request your presence at the House of Daena for a special presentation. We will go out to dinner afterward—my treat. Paimon can have as much as she likes. It will be a proper event, so please dress for the occasion. Looking forward to seeing you.
Regards,
Alhaitham
You suppose the uniformity of his letters comes from a decade of scribing—but it’s funny; you always thought he half-assed his job. Mysteries aside, you do desperately want to see what kind of presentation he’s going to give. It must be a magnificent lecture for the man who resigned from the office of Acting Grand Sage to want to be in front of an audience again.
You arrive early. As you enter the inner sanctum of the House of Daena, you immediately spot the presentation setup—rows upon rows of white folding chairs facing the largest bookshelf in the grand room. That much is expected. What’s not, however, is the sheer number of them, enough to overflow two classrooms and then some. This might be a normal turnout for an Akademiya lecture, but it would have to be quite a lecture.
The other oddity is that the podium, instead of being in the center, is all the way off to the side. In its place is a table, low to the ground, with a white cloth embroidered with a boteh motif draped over it. Behind it, facing the audience, are two low chairs upholstered in white silk.
You are far too early. The place is empty. Not even Alhaitham is here yet. You turn to Paimon, about to ask if you should dip out and pretend you were never there, when you hear the click of heels on marble, and he greets you:
“Good afternoon. Glad to see you made it.”
He seems … taller, almost, like a string is pulling his head upright, proud and a bit stiff.
“Paimon wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, Paimon is super excited for your lecture! We can’t wait to learn something new.”
Alhaitham chuckles. “Oh yeah, it’ll be edifying, all right.”
“Edi—what now?”
“She’s excited to see what you’re serving for dinner,” you cut in. “She’s been scarfing down award-winning pastries from Fontaine for weeks, so I really hope your caterers stack up against Hotel Debord.”
“And if they don’t?” he asks, amused.
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Then let’s put it out of our minds. Dinner will be more than fancy enough to satisfy, I assure you. Please, have a seat. Preparations are still underway, so get comfortable.”
“Is there any way we can help?”
“Hmm … the florist will be here soon. Can you help her set up?”
Florist? What kind of lecture requires the use of a florist? Alhaitham wasn’t in Amurta, so there’s no way it’s botany-related. The language of flowers, perhaps?
“Sure,” you say hesitantly.
He either doesn’t notice your confusion or ignores it. “Thanks. See ya.”
And as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone.
As promised, the florist arrives minutes later with two carts full of padisarahs. The blooms are huge, like the ones that grow wild in Vanarana, not like the little ones you pluck out of the ground (without permission) at Pardis Dhyai.
“Hold on, there’s more,” she says, spreading the flowers out on the floor.
She returns with full carts, nilotpala lotuses this time. This happens three more times, until there are so many flowers on the ground you can barely step around them and the air is thick with their sweet scent. Every variety that you know grows in Sumeru is here, and some you don’t recognize, too.
“Umm, is it just Paimon, or has it become obvious that Alhaitham isn’t hosting a special lecture?”
There’s no need to answer out loud.
As you start to set up, you soon realize how much work there is to be done: stringing garlands and hanging baskets from the lofty ceiling (Paimon is exceedingly helpful here), putting enormous bouquets on either side of the aisle for every row of chairs, wrapping greenery around the archway at the entrance. It’s absurd that Alhaitham hasn’t hired more help. What was he planning to do if you hadn’t shown up early?
He comes in and out a few times while you work, only stopping to place items on the table before leaving again. It fills quickly: first an ornate mirror, then two candelabras, then a book. More follows: naan, herbs, spices, fruit, honey, sweets, all in beautiful bowls.
The first guests show up, some people you vaguely recognize as being from Kshahrewar. They sit in the back. Alhaitham has disappeared, but at least you’re done with the flowers. More and more people start to file in, many of whom you don’t know, but also some you do. Candace, Dehya, and Dunyarzad walk in together and take their seats in the front. Dunyarzad waves you over, so you and Paimon join them a row behind.
Faruzan—“That’s Madam Faruzan, to you!”—arrives in a whirlwind, her hair billowing out behind her. Long, purposeful strides get her to the podium, where she stands and looks out across the crowd proudly. It’s painfully clear what’s going on at this point, but even seeing it with your own eyes, you’re still in disbelief that Alhaitham would make a surprise of his own damn wedding. Does Faruzan know, or does she think she’s emceeing a “presentation”?
“Hey, where did Dehya go?” Paimon whispers. The four of you look around, but she’s nowhere to be seen. You’re about to offer to find her when music starts to play, a slow and romantic string quartet arrangement. The scholars who are loudly catching up drop their voices, but you can still hear a bit of whispering.
The doors at the end of the hall fly open, and the last of the chatter stops. Alhaitham and Dehya enter together. He’s no longer wearing the clothes you saw him in earlier, having changed into a shimmering dark emerald suit with a rust-red tie. Beside him in an equally smart white suit, Dehya stands tall and proud.
You suddenly remember when they faced Rahman and his group of Deshret-followers together. You hadn’t fully trusted Alhaitham then, but Dehya saw what you didn’t, and offered her right arm for sacrifice because she believed so strongly in his integrity. Now, they’re grinning like fools at each other. You’ve never seen Alhaitham nervous before, but you can tell he’s got a strong grip on that same right arm and she is essentially holding him upright.
They mince down the aisle, the slow pace Alhaitham’s fault for once. When they come to the end, Dehya kisses him on the cheek and takes her seat in the front row next to Candace and Dunyarzad. Alhaitham stands in front of everyone and turns toward the double doors again, lifting his face like he’s waiting for the sun to shine on it.
Faruzan smiles. “Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?”
The music crescendos to a peak, and the doors swing wide once more to reveal Kaveh dressed in rich red silk with exquisite gold detailing. The threads interweave to create branches that climb from his torso to his shoulders and blossom over his arms, leading the eye to the intricate, blooming sleeves. It’s a magnificent piece of embroidery that must have taken the artist years. You wonder if Kaveh is the one who made it. Did he know…?
He looks around the hall, shock written all over his face. Evidently not. At his side is Nahida holding his hand. She’s so short next to him that you didn’t notice her at first. He bends to whisper something furiously into her ear. She says something back, and he kneels.
She procures a flower crown from behind her back and places it on his head ceremoniously, then puffs his face with powder from a compact in her pocket. Kaveh nods and stands back up.
His cheeks are kissed by sunbeams from the windows on the upper levels, a natural spotlight which seems to follow him down the aisle. He still looks a little apprehensive. Nahida has to tug him along a bit, but at least he isn’t shuffling his feet. Beautiful blue padisarahs grow in their wake, sprouting from their footprints. As he approaches the altar, you can see that he’s smiling through tears. He stands opposite Alhaitham and mouths something that you can’t quite make out.
“Honored guests, please be seated,” Faruzan announces. “My sincerest apologies for helping to deceive everyone. You see, I have never been part of a wedding before, let alone a surprise wedding, so when my dear junior asked me to officiate, I simply couldn’t say no. Besides, you all have been victim to their old married couple’s arguments for too long.”
Surprised laughter bubbles up from the crowd.
“Yes, yes, we have all experienced it, haven’t we? The House of Daena just isn’t safe with them around. How could I possibly let these two stay unmarried? ‘But Madam Faruzan, isn’t this just a formality?’ Perhaps so. You have already witnessed them shopping together, dining together, and making a home together—unspoken aspects of a lifetime of love. But now, I invite you to witness their spoken vows: their promises before their family, friends, and Sumeru.”
She looks to Alhaitham, and without any hesitation, he begins:
“I doubt anyone here knows this, but I keep a journal and have done so ever since I was a child. My grandmother got me in the habit of it. I want to open with journal entries from key moments in my life. They have been edited for brevity and clarity, but they are, in fact, real entries. The first one is from when I was 19. It reads: ‘I met a student named Kaveh today. Actually, it would be more accurate to write that he accosted me. He is a couple years my senior. He was incredibly irritating, talked too much, and told me I was rude no fewer than five times. When I pointed out that he was being just as rude, he got angry with me. I heard he is famous in his Darshan. Rifaet says he is the second coming of Pir Kavikavus. I was not half so impressed.’”
The reading is met with chuckles from the crowd. Alhaitham gives them a moment before continuing.
“The second entry is from four years later: ‘Today is the day I ask Kaveh if he will do a joint thesis with me. He is a fool and an idiot in many ways, but also the most brilliant person I have ever met. No professor has ever put forth a problem he couldn’t solve. Every time we clash, I come up with a new insight, impelled by his speed and clarity of thought. For some reason, I am worried he will say no. It is an oddly physical feeling. Now I understand what people mean when they say they’ve lost their appetite due to nerves.’”
Alhaitham looks up and smiles. “It’s often said that a joint thesis is like a marriage, so this should be our second time around. The nerves were worse this time. To avoid them, I ended up asking Lord Kusanali to bring him here, where everyone was secretly gathered. So now you see the reason for the ruse.”
More laughter. He turns to Kaveh to address him directly.
“You are the mirror which reveals my flaws and reflects the heavens back to me. You challenge me and refine my edges. You are every smile, every ideal, every reason to move forward. If I have ever done anything wise in my life, it was to fall in love with you. I once told you that it was little decisions that could provide a defense against nihilism. I now ask you to make one more decision, the only hope of my heart: to marry me and allow me to love you until I die, and even beyond that.”
You share a surprised look with Paimon.
“Wow,” she mouths, and you nod. In all the time you’ve spent together, you’ve never heard him this emotional. That must be the Haravatat schooling kicking in, with words so sincere and evocative that you can be sure you’ll never hear anything like them from his lips again.
Everyone turns their gaze now to Kaveh to gauge his reaction. His face is red from cheeks to ears, and as he sucks in long breaths, you’re close enough to hear him waver, trying not to cry.
“Haitham,” he says, and you think he might follow it up with a declaration of eternal love, but instead he sputters, “That’s not fair! That was so beautiful, and now I have nothing to say in return. I was still working on my vows!”
He turns to the guests.
“They would have blown his out of the water, I swear. His are garbage compared to mine.”
“Yikes,” Hat Guy says, loudly enough that you can hear it on the other side of the aisle. Heads turn to glare at him, and Layla claps a hand over her mouth in shock.
Tighnari, whose cheeks are puffed up with laughter, breaks with a loud “Pfft!” He hunches over, trying to pull himself together. Everyone at the front tries to ignore him. Alhaitham produces some papers from his breast pocket and wordlessly hands them over to Kaveh, who unfolds and scans them.
“My notes … how did you find these?”
“I almost didn’t,” Alhaitham chuckles. “I nearly had to call this whole thing off when I couldn’t find them. I thought you would put them somewhere more sentimental, like inside a book. I never expected them to be buried under a mountain of clothes in the back of your closet. I almost tore the entire house apart.”
Kaveh’s face falls as he pictures the horrific mess awaiting him at home.
“Go on,” Alhaitham says, paying him no mind. He raises his chin to point to the papers in his hand.
Kaveh starts to read, a bit stiffly at first, but the longer he talks, the easier the words come.
“Because you don’t seek to endear yourself to people, they may not see the generous heart you hide under that gem of yours. However, everyone here knows the truth. They knew it when you ran off to save the Dendro Archon without telling anyone. They knew it when you saved Ilyas from a horrific fate of his own making. And they knew it when you saved me, like it was drinking water.”
Alhaitham frowns at this last sentence, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You, Alhaitham, are the best person I know.”
Kaveh looks up from his notes, seemingly adding a line he hadn’t written down.
“That’s why our loved ones are all here now, even though you didn’t tell them why. They showed up for you the way you always have for us.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Paimon wipe a lone tear with her sleeve.
“I found one of my mother’s old journals about a year and a half ago. In it, she wrote that she picked my father out of the sea of her admirers for the simple reason that he stayed. That’s all: He chose to stay. That day, when I came home, I found you kneeling in the garden, watering my silk flowers even though they were obviously already dead. You complained that I was a pain in the ass for making you take care of them, even though I had never asked you to.”
He makes a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a cry, here.
“That was the day my relationship with you turned the corner. You have been by my side all along, steadfast and true. And to you who has known every aspect of me, even the ones I didn’t want known, I vow to be your companion forevermore, listening to your joys and sharing in your sorrows. We may never see eye to eye, but I will spend the rest of my life with you, hand in wrinkled hand.”
With that, he folds the papers and gives them back to Alhaitham.
“That was his rough draft?” Paimon whispers. “It was perfect. Paimon thinks someone is cutting onions in here. Ooh, caramelized onions…”
“Don’t think about food yet,” you whisper back. “We have a while left to go.”
Alhaitham leads Kaveh behind the table with the white cloth, pulling out the seat for him before taking his own.
“Before you is the sofreh, the spread which symbolizes our wishes for the couple’s new life together,” Faruzan explains. “The most prominent items you see are the mirror of fate, for light and clarity, and two candelabras, for guidance. The reflection of each other’s faces is the first thing the couple sees during the aghd, this ceremony.”
They take a moment to look into the mirror. Whatever they see makes ever-stoic Alhaitham tear up. Your eyes aren’t so dry, themselves.
Faruzan hands them velvet ring boxes. They open them up and gently slide the wedding bands on each other’s ring fingers. You’re close enough to see Alhaitham shaking like a leaf, and Kaveh takes both his hands in his own to steady him.
She continues, “Flatbread, nuts, and fruits, for prosperity, abundance, and joy. And of course, honey, for sweetness.”
They each dip their pinky fingers into the cups of honey, cross arms at the elbow, and lean in to lick the honey off each other’s fingertips. The intimacy of the gesture is almost palpable. Before Faruzan can even instruct them to do so, they lean in again for a kiss, long and tender and silly because they can’t stop giggling.
“Many congratulations to the newlyweds,” Faruzan says. The responding cheers are so loud, she has to shout into the microphone. “Dinner will be served at the reception at Razan Gardens! Please allow our lovebirds and the wedding party to depart first, then proceed in an orderly fashion.”
The parade out isn’t orderly, but at least no one gets trampled. They make their way down the long road to the gardens. You and Paimon stay behind to help the florist’s assistant with teardown.
“Is this a commission?” Paimon asks when you’re done. “Should we check in with Katheryne?”
“Now is probably not the time. There’s food waiting, remember? We’d better get there before it’s all gone.”
“You really think Alhaitham would do that? Not order enough for everyone? No way!” she protests, but she’s already out the door.
The party is well underway by the time you arrive. Your friends are all gathered in a loose cluster, drinking and laughing. Only Nilou is paying enough attention to notice when you arrive. She beckons you over.
“Are you enjoying the festivities, Nilou?” Paimon asks.
“Yes, very much! This is the best party I’ve been to all year!” Her face darkens as she adds, “But I wish Alhaitham would have told me. I would have arranged live music. The troupe members have been looking for gigs.”
There is music, but it’s playing from phonographs spread across the gardens. The sound quality is tinny.
“Live music would have been better,” you agree.
“I won’t forgive him,” Tighnari complains. “He didn’t tell any of us. The only two who knew were Faruzan and the Dendro Archon. Can you believe he roped the Archon into this before us? Even Dehya didn’t know what was going on until two seconds before he dragged her down the aisle.”
Cyno shakes his head. “We should have known. Kaveh loves surprises.”
“Kaveh really fucking loves surprises,” Tighnari echoes, defeated.
“Pull yourselves together.” Dehya claps a hand over each of their backs. “Less moping, more stuffing your face. This food is incredible. Paimon, come try the shawarma.”
You leave Paimon to the spread and find Sethos sitting on the ground with his head between his knees.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “Just tired, maybe a little overheated. It’s so humid here.”
You bring him a cup of water. He accepts it with a grateful nod, and after he gulps the whole thing, his tongue loosens, like it was wine instead of water.
“I only came to Gandharva Ville for vacation. When Alhaitham sent out that invitation, Tighnari said it would be fun to spend a week together and then go to his stupid presentation. I thought we were going to go sightseeing. I told him I could handle anything he threw at me, but the humidity, gods, the humidity! I’ve been running around all week with the Forest Rangers. I’m exhausted. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Oh,” you say, giving him a sympathetic frown. There isn’t much more you can do to help.
“It’s fine,” he groans. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I told Tighnari I’ve had enough, and he said, and I quote, ‘I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that.’ Oh! I’d like to see him spend a week in the desert.”
“He wouldn’t make it.” You gleefully regale him with the tale of Tighnari fainting and forfeiting the second round of the Interdarshan Championship, and the two of you share a laugh. “But don’t be too hard on him,” you add as an afterthought. “He has to save people from trying to pet Rishboland tigers all day. He’s probably stuck in the ranger persona.”
“That’s true. Plus, there’s Cyno to deal with,” Sethos muses. “That can’t be easy…”
You both giggle again and contentedly people-watch while sipping your fizzy water. Some have finished dinner by now and are already up and dancing. Paimon, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have come up for air ever since her first plate of samosas. You wonder if you ought to check on her, but then Dehya asks her something and she nods enthusiastically, so you sprawl out on the ground and continue to observe the dances.
You are struck once more by Alhaitham’s planning prowess. The joyous mood is infectious, and the gardens are festive, covered in flowers and bathed in warm light. It’s picture-perf—
Paimon tugs on your sleeve.
“Paimon’s gonna be sick,” she says, and without waiting for you, flies off faster than you’ve ever seen her move. She lands in a patch of bushes far from any partygoers.
You give chase and mentally run through a list of what she ate: a couple dozen samosas, about the same of panipuri while she was waiting for the samosas to cook, at least a gallon of curry shrimp … Well, that would do it. You wince in sympathy and turn away to give her some privacy.
To your right, hushed voices catch your attention, and you focus to listen.
“What is wrong with you?” Kaveh hisses.
“Do you not like it?”
“No, I love it! Everything is perfect. In my dreams, I never imagined it would be this beautiful. But how the hell did you manage to pull this off? I’ve never been so blindsided in my life.”
You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but you do have to know how Alhaitham did it…
“Tighnari probably helped you, right? When I was planning theirs last year, I probably mentioned my personal preferences too much, and—”
“Actually, I never told him. Or Cyno,” Alhaitham says smugly. “The only ones who knew were Nahida and Faruzan.”
You hear Kaveh sputter.
“Well, someone had to get you to the House of Daena in proper dress without a fuss, and I knew Nahida would steer you without letting you get too suspicious. As for Faruzan, well, you know how she loves a captive audience.”
“You cannot enlist an archon to help you with something this small!”
“Kaveh … are you calling your own wedding small? After I went to all this trouble to bring all our friends together?”
The teasing smile is evident in Alhaitham’s voice. For a second you think you might need to join Paimon in being sick.
“You—! I was suspicious the entire time, just so you know.”
“Not suspicious enough, apparently. You still showed up, didn’t you?”
Paimon emerges from the bushes and makes a beeline to you. Before she can give away your position, you grab her hand and pull her to your side, making the shh motion. She quickly understands when she hears Kaveh’s voice.
“Ugh! You’re lucky I’m so trusting. She didn’t even try to come up with a believable excuse, just ordered me around for a bit.”
Alhaitham laughs. “Trusting, or easily bullied?”
Kaveh sighs, exasperated. “I was going to apologize for calling your vows garbage, but you’re making this difficult. Besides, I’m still mad at you for letting me procrastinate writing mine when you knew what was coming up. But … I suppose you have made quite a fuss and invited quite the crowd. That must have been hard.”
“I can endure anything for one day, especially my own wedding.”
There is a moment of peaceful quiet, the merry roar of friends and music faded in the background. It’s a long time before Alhaitham speaks again, and when he does, he’s so quiet you have to strain to hear him.
“I didn’t save you, you know,” he says. “You have more agency than that.”
What’s he talking about? Then you remember Kaveh’s vows—he’d made that claim earlier, hadn’t he?
“We don’t have to use the same word for it, but you showed up at my lowest point and helped me onto my feet. It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
Alhaitham makes a soft noise of disagreement.
“It’s okay,” Kaveh replies. “I’m … very grateful. Not because you saved me, but because we’re here now, and tonight is perfect, and tomorrow will only be better.”
They start to make sounds that can only be described as exaggerated kissy noises. For some reason, it takes you another moment to realize that they actually are kissing. Paimon side-eyes you, and no words need to be exchanged to know what you’re both thinking: Time to go. You start to stand when Kaveh’s voice suddenly gets louder.
“Can we get out of here? I’m actually really tired.”
He’s getting closer! You need to run for it!
“Hold on—we have company,” Alhaitham says.
“Huh?!” Kaveh exclaims.
“You can come out now. I know you’ve been behind those bushes the entire time.”
Ah.
You sheepishly make your way to them, Paimon following closely behind.
“We didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Paimon swears!” she cries. “We were just here to, umm, get some fresh air, not because the food made us sick”—Who is us? you think, amused—“and then you started talking and now here we are!”
Kaveh’s face lights up at the sight of you, and he bends down to pull you both into a hug, your snooping already forgotten.
“Thank you for celebrating with us,” he says, voice muffled in your hair. “I’m so happy you made it. I missed you.” When he lets you go, you beam back at him. “It’s been one hell of a day, hasn’t it?”
You nod, having trouble finding your words now that you’re seeing him up close and incandescent with love, a far cry from the gloomy Kaveh who won the Interdarshan Championship. A stray petal floats down and lands in his hair. Alhaitham brushes it off gently, cupping his cheek, and Paimon pretends to gag.
“The flowers are beautiful,” Kaveh says. “I couldn’t have done them better myself.”
“You did. Do them yourself, I mean.”
You look around and admire the arrangements hanging from lampposts and the nearly garish centerpieces, so huge you can’t see the guests sitting directly opposite. Kaveh certainly didn’t set these up; he never would have had time. More likely the florist left before the ceremony and ran straight here to string up a hundred thousand garlands.
As you ponder, Kaveh interrupts your thoughts with an indignant, “What? Wait … the flower-arranging workshop? That was months ago! I forgot we even went to that. You’re lucky I saw the flyer on the bulletin board.”
Alhaitham raises an eyebrow.
“No … don’t tell me!”
“Didn’t you wonder why Nilou was the only other person there?” Alhaitham laughs. “I asked Tighnari to join and he told me to fuck off, so if he comes to you complaining that I didn’t include him in the proceedings, tell him he had his chance.”
Kaveh buries his face in his hands. “So—let me get this right—you hired the instructor and planted the flyer where you knew I would see it?”
“At first I was only trying to get a sense of what silhouettes and colors you’d like together, but you loved it so much that I knew flowers had to be the focal piece of the night. Good surprise, right?”
He laughs and laughs, incredulous at first and then full-on shaking and slapping his knee. “I can’t believe this. You must’ve been planning for ages. Damn, I do love a good surprise.”
As they’ve been chatting away about the flowers, Paimon has been unusually quiet, waiting to say something. You nod at her.
“Alhaitham … Paimon was thinking, we were promised a fancy dinner, weren’t we?”
“Oh? What’s the problem? Is this not fancy enough for you?”
“No, but … Paimon thought ‘fancy’ would describe the food, not the event. We could have gotten any of this from Lambad.”
“I did get this from Lambad,” Alhaitham laughs. “He catered the whole thing.”
“You misled us! That was tricky of you.” She pouts.
“Sorry. I really was going to hire a private chef, but that was before I blew the entire budget on flowers. This is better, though.” He looks at Kaveh. “Isn’t it?”
“Oh, no, don’t you dare drag me into this. I’m not getting between Paimon and her food. But it did taste good, right?”
“It did!” she chirps.
“As long as you’re happy, then.” Kaveh beams, and in turn so does Alhaitham. They’re positively glowing. You half expect for the fake sky to part and for the slumbering gods of Celestia to invite them to ascend.
“We need some peace and quiet to rest now,” Alhaitham says, interrupting the scene playing out in your head. “The sumpter beast carriage is on its way to pick us up. We’ll be traveling overnight so we can arrive in Chenyu Vale in the morning for our honeymoon.”
Without warning, he takes your hand and presses something metal into your palm. You open your fist—it’s his key.
“I have a feeling that our friend from the Temple of Silence needs a place to stay that’s far, far away from the Forest Rangers who are running him ragged. Please tell him not to move any furniture or leave any trash.”
You look down at the key dubiously. “I don’t—okay.” You can hardly believe you’re still letting him make you run errands, but it’s not the worst commission you’ve ever been given.
Kaveh grasps you by the shoulders. “Wait. I need to tell you something important,” he says solemnly. You wait for him to impart his wisdom, remembering what Nahida has always said about his near-perfect understanding of the truth of Sumeru.
“Do not, under any circumstances, allow Cyno to stay in our house, no matter what he says. I don’t care if he’s drunk or doesn’t want to make a trip to Gandharva Ville or anything else. He is not allowed inside.”
Seeing your stunned face, he explains, “He’s gotten really into pranks recently. I don’t know if he feels his jokes haven’t been hitting, but if you let him in, he will do something foul.”
“I don’t—okay,” you say again.
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I know you have important things to do in the far corners of the world, but I hope you come back to Sumeru soon. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”
He kisses your cheek, and Alhaitham bends down to ruffle Paimon’s hair. She has the oddest half-grin half-grimace on her face, like she’s torn between admonishing him for treating her like a pet and leaning into his hand delightedly.
She doesn’t get a chance to decide, because Alhaitham turns away to check Kaveh’s pockets.
“Hey!” he shouts.
“Do you have your key? If you don’t have it, we’ll be locked out for real.”
“Of course I have it! You’re always the one who takes it, anyway!” The Kshahrewar lion keychain produces a pretty clink as he jingles it in Alhaitham’s face. Alhaitham tries halfheartedly to swat his hand away before giving up and turning to the road. With that, the two of them make their way to where their carriage awaits to whisk them away. They wave goodbye, and so do you.
Paimon hiccups.
“Are you crying again?”
“No! Paimon’s just mad at that old … old … old, big-headed bookworm!”
You smile. She is crying.
When you rejoin the reception, it’s much quieter than before. It must be nearing midnight by now, if it hasn’t already passed, and about half the guests have left—and they seem to have taken the whole cake with them. Your friends are sitting at a table, having taken a break from dancing.
“They probably already snuck out,” Cyno grumbles as you approach.
“Typical,” Tighnari scoffs.
“It hasn’t been that long,” Nilou says. “I bet they just wanted a few minutes of alone time after being the center of attention all day.”
“What you mean is, they probably slipped away to f—”
“Madam Faruzan!” Collei exclaims.
“To fall asleep,” Faruzan finishes lamely. From the looks on their faces, no one believes her.
“Unfortunately, I think Cyno’s right,” Dehya says. “I doubt they’re coming back. We may as well get the afterparty started.”
Dunyarzad turns to you and explains, “Most of us are going to my house after this. It’s nothing big or fancy, just a little hangout. You should come.”
Despite her claims, Dunyarzad may not be capable of having a modest get-together. You’ve only seen the Homayani estate once from afar, but even shielded by massive trees, the visible portion of the house could rival the Grand Bazaar. It’s a tempting offer, and were it not for Paimon, you would probably go. But she’s had a long day, first sick with excitement and then actually sick, so you decline. Dunyarzad looks sad. Paimon pats her shoulder.
“Let’s get going, then,” Candace says. “Everyone ready?”
“Tighnari and I have something to do, but we’ll join up later,” Cyno replies. “Can you all swing by the tavern first and pick up a crate of booze? Just put it on Alhaitham’s tab.”
“Wait, we can’t use Alhaitham’s money to pay for a party he won’t even be at,” Dehya protests.
“Do you know how much he makes in a year?” Tighnari asks.
Dehya shakes her head. Tighnari leans over and whispers in her ear.
“Get two crates,” she decides.
That settled, they start to make their way out of the gardens, leaving behind the last of the stragglers—mostly classmates and coworkers, you would guess, plus a nonzero number of crashers who had to know why the former Acting Grand Sage was hosting an event.
“Guess this party is dead now,” someone says, sounding supremely bored. “I’m out of here.”
Hearing this, Dunyarzad turns around.
“You’re more than welcome to join us. Hat Guy, right? There’s plenty of room. I would be happy to have you.”
“No way,” he scoffs. “I’d rather ki—”
Nahida, standing beside him, clears her throat insistently, and when he opens his mouth again, she coughs even louder. Finally, he simply says, “Thanks for the offer, but no.”
Dunyarzad catches Nahida’s eye, and they share a smile.
“No problem,” she says. “If you change your mind, the door will be open.”
“Yeah, sure.” He waves a hand.
Once the partygoers have shuffled out, the only people left you recognize are Nahida, Hat Guy, and Sethos, who is at another table. You gesture for him to join your group, but it’s too late; Hat Guy is already flying away.
“Bye,” he says to Sethos over his shoulder, then zooms off.
With great difficulty, you and Paimon hold in your surprised laughter until he’s out of earshot.
“What?” Sethos asks.
“Nothing!” Paimon giggles. “Really, nothing.”
“That’s the first word he’s said voluntarily all night,” Nahida says in your head. Out loud, she says, “All right, I’d better be off, too. Take care of each other.”
After a quick hug, she hops away after Hat Guy. You turn to Sethos.
“You need a place to stay tonight, don’t you?” you ask.
“I was going to camp,” he replies. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve slept like a baby through much worse.”
“It’s really okay. Don’t camp; there’s a whole empty house.”
“Ugh, not their house,” he groans.
“You’ll regret saying no once you’re back in the Avidya Forest getting bitten by bugs all night. Be comfortable while you can.”
“Fine, that’s true. Where is it?”
“I’ll take you there.”
The three of you make small talk on your way to Alhaitham and Kaveh’s house (“surprisingly beautiful vows,” “very nice venue,” “good music”), but it’s so close that you don’t have time to say much else before you’re at the front door. As you go to unlock it with Alhaitham’s key, you hear whispers and giggles in the back.
“Don’t you dare.” That, you recognize as Tighnari, which means Cyno must be the one laughing.
“If anything, I’m doing them a favor. This thing is completely covered in weeds. Maybe they’ll finally clean it up.”
You silently make your way to the garden, where Cyno and Tighnari are standing over the newlyweds’ garden bed. In his hand, Cyno has an enormous container. They still haven’t heard you approach. Cyno overturns the container over the bed and starts to walk around it before Tighnari tackles him to the ground.
“Whoa!” Sethos shouts. Their heads snap up to you.
“What are you doing here?” Cyno asks, sprawled on the ground.
“I should ask you the same thing,” you say, though you’re quite sure you already know. Kaveh wasn’t exaggerating after all.
“He’s trying to draw a dick in salt in their garden!” Tighnari exclaims. “It’ll kill the plants while they’re out on their honeymoon, and then they’ll come home to … that … in the soil.”
“Those two stopped taking care of this thing months ago. Nothing can grow here anymore anyway. They might as well start over, and I might as well do something really funny.”
On one hand, it would be a little funny. On the other hand, Kaveh has entrusted the care of his house to you.
“I think you’d better go, General Mahamatra.” You try to sound stern, but it comes out amused.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check. Please don’t tell Alhaitham,” Tighnari begs. “We’re gonna catch up to the group.”
Cyno grumbles, but he scrambles to his feet. “Fine, fine, we’ll go. Sleep well, everyone. Sethos.”
Sethos, who has been scooping out salt from the planter with his bare hands, looks up. “Yeah?”
“Safe travels home, bro.”
He grins. “Thanks. Don’t stay out too late.”
The two of them head out, Tighnari pulling Cyno’s wrist like he’s been a misbehaving kid. You make your way back to the front door and finally unlock it. Sethos flops down on one of the divans, and you toss him Alhaitham’s key.
“Will you lock up on the way out?”
“Of course,” he says.
You rummage through Kaveh’s closet and grab blankets for him. Once you make sure he’s comfortable, you and Paimon start to leave. When your hand touches the doorknob, Paimon turns back.
“Sethos?” she says. “Paimon’s really glad you’re here.”
You smile. “So am I. We’ll come to visit you next time.”
Sethos peeks out from under the covers and waves at you. “I’d like that. Goodnight, you two.”
You turn the lights out for him and step outside. Paimon yawns and, rather than flying, rests on your shoulder and buries her face in your hair. You sigh contentedly, pat her head, and turn toward the stars, toward home. Then, looking to Treasures Street once more, you realize—you might already be there.
