"It's a lovely view, isn't it?"

"It is," Rosella said, although she thought it hardly needed to be repeated. They were in a dome of pure magic, shielding them from the chill of the mountains; they could see all of Daventry from there, without the trials of climbing or the discomforts of the altitude. Edgar's family might have great magic at their disposal, but Rosella doubted that it compared to being the master of a real genie. "I'm glad that you could return home for a time, Alexander."

"Well, of course. Cassima is more than capable, and Saladin will keep the palace safe. I could hardly neglect my home, or my dear sister."

She rolled her eyes a bit, remembering the days when they had pulled each other's hair and thrown taunts at each other. Still, she supposed the past had not ruined everything. "I would like to see the Green Isles again," she said instead, sipping the cup of hot spiced cider in her hands - another gift from Shamir, and a very nice touch. "I suppose I could visit you instead, perhaps later in the year."

"Yes, I've heard the stories from Mother. A flying chariot, ridden by a Faerie prince." He laughed. "I suppose you'll be a queen yourself soon."

"Well..." She looked away. "I'd rather not think about that. Mother's the only Queen I've ever imagined."

"I know," he said more gently. "Cassima said the same thing. But I think that if anyone could take up father's legacy, it would be you."

"Oh, please," she said, swatting gently at his hand. "He would've given the cap to you if he hadn't fallen ill, I'm sure of it!"

"I'd like to think we could've shared it, actually. I would've worn it on the odd days, and you on the even."

"And give you the greater share of days?" Rosella laughed, then shook her head, struck by the absurdity of it all. "Even so... the hat belongs to our father. I can no more imagine him without than I can imagine myself a queen."

"That much I understand," he answered. "Let us hope we do not have to think about such things for a long time."

"Agreed." She looked at her brother, his brown hair beginning to grey at the temples. Her father's hair had done the same once he'd become king, her mother had told her, from bearing the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. But his face was still youthful, if a bit more careworn, and he was still the same brother she'd grown up with, the one she'd argued with when they were children. "I missed you, Alexander."

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders in a sort of half-hug. "I know, Rosella. I missed you too."

They sat in the quiet of the mountains a bit longer, watching the snow fall.