Getting up as the night sky was only vaguely lightening was an ordeal. I splashed cold water on my face to force sleep out of my head, then washed with water hot enough to fill the bathroom with steam, but the black coffee served downstairs was the only thing that could keep my eyes open.

  I didn’t have coffee every day. The plant didn’t exist in Brealia, and no one at the market hall knew of a similar one anywhere in the world, so I had to summon a bag of roasted beans every now and then, using the daily miracle I’d been granted upon my summoning. As a result, I only brewed coffee when I felt tired or homesick.

  Even though I hadn’t specifically asked for a morning coffee, the kitchen staff knew what it was like to attend Rising, so a delicious smell welcomed me as soon as I opened the door of the small dining room, the one where usual meals were served. The young cook Arwan saw me, rushed into the kitchen, and Sirit, the head cook, came a second later with a pot and a cup.

  “Happy Rising, Al!”

  I sat down with a smile. “Thank you, Sirit. Happy Rising to you too. Happy Rising everyone!”

  I had two cups of coffee, black and unsweetened. The beverage was new to this world and its bitterness turned most people off. Some cooks were learning to enjoy it, but they added sugar. Except sugar would have dampened the effect. On Rising more than on any other day, I needed my coffee black, bitter and brutal.

  Now fully awake, I attended the service at the royal chapel. The chants were simple but melodious, praising the Almighty’s light and grace. And in the end, I finally got to discover the main dining room of the royal palace, which was seldom in use. The walls were deep red, high windows let in the bright daylight, and all kinds of paintings covered the ceiling, framed in gold-colored stucco. Surprisingly enough, the chairs and tables looked rather simple.

  Perhaps lining over a hundred chairs in deep red velvet would be too expensive. They might have more impressive furniture for meals with fewer guests.

  The traditional Rising honey biscuits weren’t the only food served. The variety of dishes, along with the time of day, made me think of a brunch from my native world. There was even a buffet, which I found terribly modern for such a baroque place.

  A few tables closer to the king, Lord Berg, the Minister of Labor, was asked about the recent pigment ban. I edged closer to the conversation. The couple asking questions were in their fifties, and everything in them, from their elaborate hairstyles to the metallic threads woven into their clothes, screamed money. Yet, they sounded as if they were on the brink of bankruptcy.

  “You made us discontinue our bestselling hues. How are we supposed to keep our business afloat?” complained the wife.

  Lord Berg gave me a sideways look, but he didn’t ask me to join the conversation.

  “I trust your remarkable capacities,” he said.

  “Then why are you ruining us? We’ll have to close our manufactures and lay off our workers, or we’ll be the ones sleeping in a gutter in no time!”

  Lord Berg sighed.

  “Look, this isn’t against you, or against anyone in particular. We learned that arsenic-based pigments were hazardous, so the king decided to ban their use. Who are we to contradict the king?”

  The couple stared at King Esthar for a while, from afar, with an outraged look on their faces.

  “Who told him that these pigments were a danger to anyone?” asked the husband.

  “Oh, Drion, you know who,” scoffed the wife.

  She scanned the room and quickly found me. I looked her back in the eye, unflinching.

  Time for me to make a dramatic entrance.

  “It was me, indeed. I understand it came as a shock to you, but if I can put my knowledge to good use and save this country hundreds of avoidable deaths, I’ll gladly do so.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “What knowledge are you talking about? You’ve hardly been among us for two months. How can you claim our world works the same as yours?”

  “It doesn’t, in some regards. But arsenic is a simple chemical component, and I recognized the symptoms. I know its effects are the same.”

  “You know. You know everything, don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  I watched history videos about the whole Paris green controversy just a few days before I got killed by that van, so in this case, I know more than you do. Deal with it.

  Half the room was staring at us, but the woman didn’t seem to care. She pointed a finger at me.

  “You might have gained the king’s favor with that sorry attempt at stabbing a traitor, but you won’t keep it forever, Great Hero Al.”

  Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan on relying on it forever.

  I didn’t reply. I just held my glass of solael juice in silence, while the woman’s husband calmed her down. Then Lord Berg and I exchanged a glance, and I went back to my chair.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I wasn’t trying to be popular, but it still hurt to see my efforts bring me more criticism than praise. I pushed the country forward a decade or two, for the sake of public health, and I was accused of ruining an honest business for nothing.

  In the afternoon, most guests left. I slouched on a bench in the flower garden, to the soothing sound of the ornamental fountain. I yawned. Given the limited activity in the palace, I suspected I wasn’t the only one making up for the early rise.

  Despite the pleasant breeze, negative thoughts clouded my mind.

  I was about to be dragged across the country for a betrothal ceremony I couldn’t care less about. Why had Princess Nigella decided I’d be her guest? Or at least one of her guests, the other one being Kossi? King Esthar wasn’t exactly thrilled at having to travel with a dragon who’d very nearly scorched half his kingdom, and a hero he didn’t know what to do with. And of course, it meant I’d be away from Catalin, just as she was beginning her summer break and I was hoping for more time to just enjoy her company.

  We were supposed to be engaged, for the Almighty’s sake! After I’d accidentally proposed to her, we’d run across the country, fought enemies, I nearly got her killed, then she was captured, and when it was all over, she had a truckload of work, so most of our interactions consisted in me helping her with her final assignment. Her family wasn’t exactly supportive of me, either, so… Did I really have a chance?

  I put a hand in my pocket and felt the miracle I’d prepared for Catalin.

  Will she enjoy it? Was it worth bringing it back?

  “Good afternoon, Al!” said a happy voice.

  I opened my eyes. Did I really nap on this bench?

  Catalin stood near the bench in bright red clothes, short-sleeved blouse and long flared skirt, with fabric flowers tied to her hair. She was carrying something wrapped in a checkered napkin.

  “It looks like you fell asleep. Don’t worry, it’s common after Rising.”

  I rubbed my eyes.

  “You don’t look sleepy…”

  “I walked back from my grandma’s place. It helped me stay awake. How was your Rising?”

  “Interesting. I liked the chants. I loved the food. Why don’t you sit down?”

  I moved to the side of the bench and Catalin sat down next to me. I straightened up and cleared my throat.

  “I’m sorry I must leave tomorrow…”

  She shook her head. “That’s only for a few weeks. Besides, I can look after myself. Do you remember? I was in this world twenty-two years before you arrived.”

  “You’re right,” I admitted. Her smile is so adorable.

  I closed my fist around the miracle in my pocket. “Look, there’s something I thought you’d like to get back.”

  Catalin narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

  “Just hold out your hand.”

  She did as I asked, her ears moving forward, showing how intrigued she felt. I dropped a necklace in her palm. It was a very simple one, with a white flower and a small carved piece of wood, both tied to a braided string. The pendants were identical to the ones I wore around my own neck. Catalin looked at them wide-eyed, her cheeks reddening a little.

  “My necklace? How did you…”

  “I know it was taken away from you when you were a prisoner in Malo, but I have a special power, remember? So I brought it back. For you.”

  It took me several wishes to my guardian angel, first to locate it, and then to retrieve it. But I regret nothing. You were so sad when you said it was gone.

  Catalin closed her hands on the necklace, moved her lips in silence, and then gave me a determined look.

  “We should swap.”

  I put a hand over my own pendants. “Do you think so?”

  “Of course. You’re going away for a while, so it’ll be a token of our faith in each other. And we can swap again once you come back from Zerta.”

  I nodded. It makes sense.

  I opened the chain that held my pendants, handed my necklace to Catalin, and put hers around my neck. She stared at it for a moment, her eyes bright with emotion.

  “Thank you, Al,” she finally said.

  There was so much more to her voice, to her attitude, than the words suggested. She thought she’d never see her necklace again. She thought the pendant she’d carved for a then hypothetical fiancée, as well as the Mera flower I’d given her during our trip to Merumo, were lost forever, leaving her with no physical proof of our engagement. But I couldn’t just go and leave her with nothing. Had Cherub told me her necklace was impossible to retrieve, I’d have given her mine.

  I sighed.

  “I told you, remember? When the curse was lifted and we both awoke. I said I was going nowhere without you. So, when Princess Nigella decided I had to go to Zerta, I did my best to make sure we have a bit of each other with us while I’m away.”

  Catalin shook her head with a smile.

  “My Mom keeps telling me to be wary of your tongue!”

  Acid ran through my heart. Why is she mentioning it now?

  I swallowed before asking, “Do you think she’s right?”

  “Of course not! She doesn’t know you like I do. I’m glad you proposed, Al, even if it was an accident. My family needs more time, but they’ll understand.”

  Her smile. It feels like chocolate melting over my heart. I thought I was past these emotions, but not every part of me is a boring adult, it seems.

  I stared into Catalin’s terracotta eyes, not knowing what to do next. Fifteen-year-old me would have acted more impulsively, but I knew better. I was in a dominant position in more ways than one, so I couldn’t decently force anything on her.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Did I just hear what I thought I heard?

  She moved forward, just enough to press her lips against mine. The outside world stopped existing. When I lost contact with Catalin’s mouth, I instinctively searched for it and found it again, briefly, my soul lost in delightful vertigo. My body asked for more, something deeper, the two of us merging into one miniature universe, but a chaste kiss was enough for now. I smiled.

  “I love you too, Catalin Robi.”

  We stayed on the bench in the breeze. I held Catalin’s hands in mine, while her checkered napkin rested on her lap. Did the sweet smell come from it? I tilted my head.

  “Is this…”

  Catalin giggled.

  “Oh, yes! These are Rising biscuits from my family. We always bake a lot of them, so we have leftovers for the next few days.”

  Baking in large batches made sense in a city where most homes didn’t have a fully equipped kitchen. When you had to wait for your turn to use the block’s shared oven, you made the most out of it.

  Catalin untied the napkin. All her biscuits were round, the traditional shape for a Rising honey biscuit.

  “These ones are from my mother. These ones are from my grandmother. My sister Lorna. My aunt Kablin. My uncle Sepesh.”

  At least, one of these bakers is a man.

  “Is there a competition or something? Each family member trying to convince the others that their biscuits are the best?”

  “Well, you could say that.”

  “And who won?”

  “Nobody, as usual. In the end, we all praised Mamin because she’s our grandmother, but when we parted, everyone kept saying it was only out of respect and they’d baked the best biscuits.”

  It seems family reunions are the same in every world.

  The smell of honey made my mouth water, but my eyes were watering too. My mother, though a decent cook, wasn’t a great baker. I was the one tasked with bringing dessert to family events. And yet, these little round biscuits stacked on my fiancée’s lap reminded me of all the moments I’d never get to live again.

  “Do you want a taste, Al?” asked Catalin in a concerned voice.

  I shook my head.

  “Not now. I’m not hungry. Tonight, maybe? And I’ll tell you which ones I prefer. I’ll be honest, I promise.”