“Hey… Prim.

  I tried. But leaving our mistakes and our wounds unspoken didn’t make them go away.”

  I stir in my sleep.

  My body aches; my joints feel swollen, heavy. When I open my eyes, my gaze lingers on the curtain over my window—sunlight spilling through the narrow gaps on either side, like a wild beast pressed against the bars of its cage.

  For long moments, there’s no thought. I feel hollow. Empty. Spent.

  Light.

  The crushing weight I carried tight against my chest is gone. I don’t remember when it left.

  Memories come flooding back.

  Til… I thought I’d never see him again.

  I rub my eye lazily with the back of my hand—and catch a streak of black. I touch my cheek, tentative. More black. Flecks of other colors.

  I cried so much my face is a complete mess, didn’t I?

  I drag myself out of bed. Even standing hurts; my muscles were wound so tight the ache still lingers. I shuffle toward the window, the room blurring around me.

  I glance down at myself and recognize my dress—the one I wore yesterday.

  “…Did I have a curtain?” I ask aloud, glancing back at the window as if she couldn’t already hear my thoughts.

  The truth is… most of the time, I don’t know where I end and she begins. Or where she ends and I begin.

  Vellaris stretches out before me, sun high in the sky, streets already alive with motion.

  How long did I sleep?

  My body carries me back to the mirror along the same path I take every morning, etched into muscle and habit.

  My mind retraces yesterday’s events.

  It wasn’t night when I left the tavern with Til. After that, I went back and—

  Cattleya.

  The name reaches me at the same moment my toe collides with something solid.

  Red-hot pain blooms, sharp and blinding. I bite down hard to keep from screaming as I stumble forward, my hand catching onto something stable. I gasp, steady myself, and open my eyes.

  She’s right there.

  Right in front of my face, eyes closed, sleeping peacefully—arms wrapped around her own tail in place of a pillow.

  I force myself to breathe. To calm down. Balancing on my uninjured foot, I straighten and take a careful step back.

  A sofa.

  Her sofa.

  What is she doing in my room?

  What is it doing in my room?

  And then the thought shifts.

  Is this really my room?

  I look around more carefully, taking it all in.

  Ah.

  That’s right. They… they set it up for me, didn’t they?

  I clutch at my chest as the urge to cry rises again—but I’m empty. Fresh out of tears.

  And I’m glad for that.

  With a quiet sigh, I move past her and sink into my new chair. A small smile creeps onto my face as I take in the gifts on my desk—but when my gaze lifts to the mirror, the smile vanishes.

  I’m worse than a mess.

  My eyes are pink and glassy, lids sore from rubbing them raw. Makeup smears my face in uneven streaks, almost clownish—and my hair…

  I run a hand through it. It’s so tangled it hurts.

  Finding myself again is a long, arduous task—but at least my back doesn’t ache while I do it.

  I study my reflection once more. I still look swollen, but it’ll have to do.

  I stand, intent on changing into something clean—and notice Cattleya watching me, eyes open now, fixed on my reflection, a relaxed smile on her features.

  “…Cat.” The word slips out awkwardly. “…How long have you been up?”

  “Dunno,” she replies noncommittally. “…I’m hungry.”

  The words make me flinch. I focus inward.

  Yeah. It’s there.

  “I’ll change into something less… not-worn-yesterday,” I say, steadying myself. “And I’ll meet you for—”

  Breakfast? Lunch? I don’t even know anymore.

  “…Food,” I finish firmly.

  “Mm.” She sounds pleased—and slips out of my room without another word.

  She isn’t even going to change, is she?

  I scoff softly as I dress: something light. Shirt, pants, slippers. Anything more feels like too much effort.

  When I open the door, she’s right there, waiting. I tilt my head with a faint smile.

  She mirrors it.

  Together, we head downstairs.

  On our way down, I offer her one of the lemon bars Veil made. The gift brings such unmitigated joy to her eyes—she looks genuinely happy as she eats.

  I take a bite of my own.

  I finish the rest eagerly.

  We reach the basement bar. It’s empty. The food’s been cleared away; everyone’s out—no doubt working.

  Cooking just feels like such a chore.

  My thoughts drift back to yesterday. That tavern did look good.

  “…Hey. How about we eat out today? My treat.” I offer Cattleya an easy smile.

  She doesn’t need any convincing. Gods… it feels like anything I do or say makes her happy.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Just as I turn toward the stairs, I hear a familiar creak—like the floorboards themselves are asking for mercy.

  Ulric.

  I freeze.

  “There you are,” he says casually enough, then raises his voice, letting it boom up the tower.

  “Basement.”

  I flinch, recoiling a few steps away.

  He notices immediately, concern flashing across his face.

  “…Geez. Sorry—too loud?” His shoulders hunch as he tries to make himself smaller. “Not very considerate of me,” he adds, quieter. “How are you feeling?”

  He takes a seat quickly, so I don’t have to look up at him.

  “Well… you know, ah—better?” I force a laugh, casually motioning to Cattleya.

  “We were just about to go out and get something to eat. Everything here’s closed, and I’m starving.”

  The words come out more naturally this time.

  Following Ulric’s call, Veil descends the stairs, already wearing an apron. He doesn’t stop to address me. He’s already committed to the work.

  “You sure about that, coves?” he asks, adjusting the apron at his waist. “You’ll be missing my full-course meal. Not something you get every day.”

  It’s rhetorical. I find myself sitting near Ulric anyway, Cattleya plopping down beside me.

  Cinna appears at the stairs, moving carefully. Her eyes meet mine for just a moment before dropping away, like she’s afraid of breaking something.

  “Cat told us what happened yesterday,” Ulric says. “We wanted to keep an eye on you, so I helped move her new sofa into your room.”

  I nod. I’d expected as much.

  But as he continues, his nostrils flare, anger sharpening his features.

  “What did that bastard do to you? He may be another captain, but that’s not going to stop me from—”

  I throw my hands up quickly, cold sweat breaking across my skin.

  “Please—there’s no need for that. I’m completely fine, really. It… it had nothing to do with—”

  I hesitate. A lie. My breath catches.

  “…It wasn’t just that. He’s a good man. Honest. Earnest. The kind of person who’d be devastated if he knew he hurt me.”

  My eyes close.

  If he knew he hurt me, at least.

  Cinna’s hand closes over mine.

  “I’m sorry for pressuring you, Imone,” she says, like she’s been holding the words all morning. “You don’t need to say anything you’re not comfortable with. Just… please. No lies.”

  “Mm.” I hum in reply. The urge to cry rises again—but I’m so glad to be out of tears.

  From the corner of my eye, I notice Cattleya watching us, a faint snicker tugging at her lips.

  I scoff.

  And with that, the rest of the tension drains out of me.

  I just copied you without thinking, didn’t I?

  Veil’s meal is hearty—nothing fancy. Omelette, braised game over vegetables, a sweet lemon mousse. I was starving; I don’t think I’ve ever eaten this much.

  Only Cattleya and I eat. The others sit nearby, watching over us, talking.

  We chat and laugh for hours. That warm feeling settles back into my chest—this time without the fear.

  Normal?

  Unremarkable?

  Mundane?

  I don’t know anymore.

  Everyone turns suddenly.

  Lucius.

  I didn’t even notice him approach.

  His assessing gaze settles on me, and I find myself unconsciously straightening, puffing my chest just a little.

  As if deciding we’re ready, he steps forward and sets a folder on the table.

  “I spent the last day analyzing this contract,” he says evenly. “Assessing risk. Reviewing the background of all involved parties. Thus far, I find it… adequate.”

  Ulric is already opening the folder, scanning its contents as Cinna and Veil lean in at either side.

  Lucius’s gaze shifts to me.

  “However,” he continues, “one detail gives me pause. This job was not offered to the company as a whole. It was offered specifically to your squad.”

  His eyes don’t leave mine.

  “I want you to examine that carefully—and help me understand why.”

  “Huh…” Ulric murmurs. “Some bigshot from the Academy wants us guarding his caravan? Sounds fine to me. Means we’d be out of town for a while, but—”

  He’s cut off as Cinna gently pulls the folder from his hands.

  “Master Edgar!”

  All eyes turn to her. She flushes, then straightens, smoothing the ribbon at her collar.

  “Edgar Nura is a Master of Conjury,” she says quickly. “He was my instructor for three years at the Academy. Everything I know about binding the threads of Vire—I learned from him.”

  Her gaze drifts back to the folder, reverent.

  “His work in golemancy is unparalleled. He’s quite literally written the book on it.”

  It feels like she could go on, but Lucius interjects.

  “Thank you, Cinnatoria.”

  His tone is measured. “I was aware of the client’s reputation. I was not aware you studied under him.”

  A pause.

  “Very well.”

  His eyes flick to me for a brief, unreadable moment before returning to Ulric.

  “That said, I remain uncomfortable with your squad accepting this contract.”

  He steps back, turning away as he speaks.

  “The Aureate’s investigation into the loss of our Shield squad has progressed. They have confirmed that their deaths and the contraband operations beneath the city were separate incidents.”

  A breath.

  “Possibly coordinated. But not executed by the same party.”

  No one speaks.

  “The methodology differed significantly,” Lucius continues. “Most notably, the heads were placed in public during a crowded afternoon—and no witness saw the act committed.”

  He turns back toward us.

  “…Specialists also identified a preservation spell cast upon the remains. Sophisticated. Prolonging decomposition well beyond natural limits.”

  His mouth tightens.

  “Far beyond the capabilities of our smugglers.”

  Ulric raises a hand.

  “I may have neglected to mention something during the debrief,” he says, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. He glances toward Veil, who stiffens.

  “Made one of the mercs talk. They weren’t locals—hired from elsewhere. All by someone—or something—calling themselves Pale Grasp.”

  Lucius’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t comment.

  “Against my better judgment,” he says at last, “I will leave this decision in your hands, Captain Ulric.”

  He turns to the bovaryn once more.

  Ulric looks to Cinna.

  “Master Edgar is a powerful man,” she says after a moment. “In resources and in magical expertise. Gaining his favor could be… advantageous.”

  “A fair assessment,” Lucius allows.

  “I trust Cinna,” Ulric says simply.

  Lucius inclines his head.

  “Very well. You may finish your… merriment. But if you accept this contract, you are expected at his manor tonight.”

  He turns and leaves without waiting for a response.

  I turn to Cinna, a warm smile settling on my face.

  “…Excited to see him again?”

  Color blooms across her cheeks.

  “I was never one of his best students,” she says quickly. “I completed all his courses, learned so much from him—but light and transmutation always came more naturally to me.” She hesitates, then presses a hand to her chest.

  “To think he remembers me, even now…”

  My heart softens as I watch her.

  “…Well,” she adds briskly, straightening, “enough outbursts, yes? We have a job to do.”

  “Aye,” Veil agrees warmly, leaning over the table. His gaze lingers on her a moment longer than necessary, like he’s watching something precious.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Ulric says easily. “I get to leave the talking to you and focus on the work. What’s not to love?”

  A few quiet chuckles ripple through the group.

  I glance toward Cattleya.

  She’s already looking at me, a faint, gentle smile on her lips.

  Right. I don’t even need to ask.

  “Looks like we’re going, then,” I say. “I’ll pick up new armor tomorrow—regular clothes should be fine for tonight, right?”

  Everyone nods.

  “Back here in an hour?” Ulric suggests, already rising.

  We scatter up the stairs.

  Ulric and Veil peel off at the fifth floor. Cinna at the sixth. My gaze lingers for a heartbeat on the door to the baths—

  —but I keep climbing.

  At the seventh floor, Cattleya steps ahead of me and gives a small wave.

  “See you soon, Imo.”

  “See you soon.” I return it with a smile.

  As soon as she disappears up the stairs, I turn back.

  Downward.

  Into the baths, the door clicking shut behind me.

  I can’t soak long. Just a few minutes.

  I slip into the tub and sink against the edge as heat seeps into my muscles, easing the tension that’s clung to me since yesterday.

  Would she follow me here, like she’s followed me everywhere else?

  The thought lingers.

  I push it aside and focus on the warmth instead.

  The Chariot has a job to do, after all.