“Don’t tell me to blink. I don’t want to miss anything. How many times do you get to see a triple backflip into that position?” Adna mumbled.

Timbrelle, too, did not look away.

“Take your time. They come twice a month. I’ve seen them plenty.” Trestovan threw back his second drink, scowling at the stage.

“Do you want to talk about something?” Adna asked. “It feels like you want to talk about something, but I don’t bring my friends to a den of iniquity to talk when I could do it in the drawing room. So what’s really going on?”

He flipped off his mask onto the couch and sighed. “Truly? It has nothing to do with you two. I’ve dragged you here because, of everyone in this city, you two have no allegiances, no ulterior motives, no ties to the big families. In the spirit of candor, you two know next to nothing about me or Yost or nearly anything. It feels good to be around you.”

“You brought us to a sex club to get emotional? You have no game.” Adna screwed up her nose.

He laughed. A desperate sound.

“That isn’t all. Is it something with Gren?” Timbrelle sat beside him, giving a stiff but well intentioned pat on the back.

He smiled weakly. “Tangentially. I’ve been engaged.”

They both stared while he prepared another drink.

“Not to Gren, I gather.” Adna said softly.

“No. Not him. The Young Lord of Torseia—Matrick. My childhood friend… rival… whatever you like to call it. We’ve both been striving to become our family’s Head.” He rubbed his face with open hands. “But my father just can’t seem to give up the position despite inhabiting it through seventy-one years, four successive wives and fourteen children. He won’t abdicate until he ascends. I wouldn’t be surprised if even then he still managed to keep an iron grip on the duchy. We’ll have to pray to him for each quarterly review.”

“What will you do?” Timbrelle asked after a moment of thought. “What do you want to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do! Father has promised to disown me if I fail to fulfill my duty. Truth be told, Duchess of Torseia is a fine position. Torseia is every bit as powerful as house Daliega, if slightly more wealthy. But that bastard promised me—promised me I’d be permitted to marry as I chose.” He stared into the middle distance. “I’m being sold off to Torseia for quite the considerable amount. My father was so proud. Me, a prized pig raking in more than he anticipated.”

The four ducal houses specialized in different areas based on geography. Daliega dominated trade in Yost while Rigel handled the kingdom’s mining, exclusively. In terms of power, an equilibrium had been achieved. What the other houses lacked in farming and ranching, House Torseia had in spades. In turn, the knights and soldiers of each house were trained at the Groleck estate. One could mistake the houses for the cogs of a well-oiled machine but the truth was that they clashed with each other in a political war waged in silence. However, the recent assassinations of House Groleck’s youngest son and Torseia’s Duchess, the strife and scheming was growing harder to hide from the public.

“Would you like to run away?” Timbrelle asked finally.

Adna and Trestovan’s eyes boggled at her.

“Run away? The Young Lord of the Daliegas?” He sputtered.

“Look. Where I’m from, it’s called ‘going no-contact’. You disown them. Let a distant coincidence bring you back together for a heartfelt reunion on his deathbed.” She shrugged. “He’s handled things all by himself for a hundred years, he won’t be helpless.”

“That’s messed up, Timbrelle. It’s common where you’re from to just drop family?” Adna marveled.

“Not for nothing. If they hurt me enough, we aren’t family anymore. Betray me and I’m done. It can be a healthy boundary.” She explained. “And I’m not saying you go live in the wasteland. Go to… ah shoot, what was that country’s name? Florenta? Use the aurora stone. That money should get you pretty far, right?”

“I’d be executed before standing trial. Unless you worship Nerrus or get called ‘king’, people can’t just produce aurora stones from the air. I would need a document of provenance signed by one of the aforementioned.” His giant form was getting wobbly from his many drinks in quick succession.

“That shouldn’t be too hard; I’ll just ask the head priest. I could probably have it by tomorrow. I’ve solved the problem haven’t I?”

Trestovan slapped a hand over his face and said to Adna, “Does it start to sound less ridiculous as you spend more time with her?”

“No, but your tolerance for bullshit goes through the roof.” She mimed shooting an arrow into the sky.

Trestovan smiled weakly. “Can I ask that of you? A writ provenance?”

“What? Yeah, of course. It’s just a piece of paper. I literally gave you a ruby the size of a mini candybar. This is nothing.” She waved his concern away. “Let me worry about the money. You start planning where you’ll go and what to do if Gren says no. That’s enough for you to worry about. Adna will get you out.”

Adna nodded, already deep in thought. “Did I tell you I got a grappling hook yesterday?”

“No!” Timbrelle gasped. “Have you tried it yet?”

“Haven’t had time.”

“Good. I’ve always wanted to use one. I wouldn’t be able to handle you practicing in secret and showing me up.” She heaved a sigh of relief.

Trestovan laughed shaking his head. “I did not know what to expect when Gren wanted to lodge Dorark survivors at my house. I said yes purely as an excuse to see him. I’m so glad I did…”

“Are you crying? Oh gods, Timbrelle.”

“He’s a weepy drunk, for sure.” She replied then turned to Trestovan. “Do you have somewhere to sleep here? Like, actually sleep.”

They left Trestovan in his personal chambers. Adna’s hand drifted to open the door to his “playroom” before Timbrelle smacked it away.

“I’ll tell him you peeked.” She threatened.

“Ugh, you’re such a snitch sometimes.” Adna whined.

“It comes from being the youngest.” Timbrelle halted mid step. A creeping of goose flesh dappled her arms.

Wasn’t she an only child? Her mom, her cat and her… right? But no, an undeniable nagging bothered at her. What she remembered wasn’t exactly correct either. Didn’t she have a brother? In her heart, she knew that the two claims were fact. That they contradicted each other was also fact. How could she be an only child and a youngest child at once? It was not unclear which was true. Impossibly, they both were. Two opposing memories, equally valid.

What was correct?

Adna poked her head back around the corner. “Are you coming? I kept talking, thinking you were next to me.”

“My bad. I can smell food and it must be distracting me.” She lied.

“I can’t smell a thing over V’s cologne.”

“Are you ok, by the way? He took you down pretty hard when he passed out.” She winced sympathetically.

“I was wearing my bandeau like a belt. He’s lucky he was unconscious at that point. I would have had to knock him out topless.” Adna grumbled.

She scanned the woman front to back, up and down. “Your ink is smudged, but otherwise you look ok.”

The swirling black lines Timbrelle had painted onto Adna’s back to hide the unholy hand prints now sported a garish smudge. The pattern worked better than she expected at obfuscating the mark on her own arm. She may need to employ them more often when she finally got to update her wardrobe of exclusively long sleeved dresses. Wearing these earthish clothes reminded her how much she disliked the long sleeved, bell-shaped dresses of Yost.

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“Is it bad? I had big plans for these rippling back muscles. I can’t pick up babes if it looks too messed up.” She craned her neck, attempting to assess the damage.

“If that’s the criteria… there will be no babes tonight, I’m afraid.” Timbrelle broke the news delicately. “How about we find food? And tell me honestly, you really don’t smell that? It smells like fruit pie. I’m starving.” She changed the subject.

“It smells like flowers in here. But what you said sounds like an aurora gem, right? Something smells insanely good but I can’t seem catch the scent. Where did you notice it?”

It warmed her heart that Adna had such faith in her words. It would be an easy topic for her friend to brush off. She bumped the taller woman affectionately.

“As soon as we walked in. I’ve been dying to try the cafeteria because I want that pie. I’ll be really disappointed to find out it’s some dumb jewel.”

“And the smell is just as strong here as the front door?” Adna clarified.

“No, it was intoxicating on the first floor. Up here it’s just pleasant.” She considered the question. “That means it’s down there…”

"Should we steal it?” Adna asked.

"What the. Where did that come from? Didn’t our buddy just say you can get executed for that?”

“Didn’t he also say that this place was operating outside the law? Isn’t it possible that they’ve stolen the aurora gem and you need to reclaim it? Isn’t it your duty as an auror to see it returned?”

“You’re not being subtle. Since you can’t go fishing tonight, you want to go on a treasure hunt.” Timbrelle accused.

Adna remained mute.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“Nope. I told you: I like having money. Aurora gems are basically that but better.” She shrugged.

The hostess at the desk smiled warmly and directed them to the petal pit. From ten stories below they watched the gazebo begin its ascent. Even with the eleborate railing interceding, the height made Timbrelle’s stomach clench. The sensation was magnified by the now unimpeded stench of fruit pie. It wafted up the open floors.

When they reached the ground floor Timbrelle resorted to breathing through her mouth.

Adna nodded to her and initiated the plan. The ride in the gazebo had been relatively short, just long enough for them to work out their next moves. She watched her friend slink away. Whether Adna was going to trawl for babes, complete her task or both was difficult to tell from her predatory saunter.

Timbrelle returned to her job of finding hidden passages in the walls. By the sheer volume of people, the job would be time consuming. Timbrelle scanned the room.

She had to do a double take.

There had been talk of Adna’s exploits but this was the first time they’d been demonstrated for her.

She could see her partner in crime had pinned a waiter to the wall. Her pity for the man died when she realized that Adna was getting just as good as she gave. Their kiss—if that mess could even be classified as a kiss—was precisely to plan.

A short, drunken man rushed past Timbrelle to a vacant corner. He doubled over, balancing against the wall, and heaved his guts onto the marble floor. Party-goers fled the splash zone. She was uninterested in the man. His mess painted the area and left a foul odor but the splashes fizzled into nothingness when it reached a certain part of the wall. A sight she was abashedly familiar with after, essentially, enacting this scene… plus one deity. Just as she hadn’t been able to soil the God’s garments, this small man had left a perfect doorway-sized patch of clean on the nearby wall. Her theory was confirmed when the person sent to clean up disturbed the illusion. A small puff of sapphire aura escaped when their mop met the wood paneled baseboards.

She waited, leaned against a pillar trying to emulate the posture Adna achieved so naturally. Was it the ever-so-slight incline of her jaw that let her look down her nose at people? Was that how she came off so confident? It looked silly when she tried it. However, that could be due to her diminutive stature. Were she to look down her nose, she’d have to cock her head back ninety degrees to see someone.

“Did you find it?” Adna asked, coming to stand beside her, nonchalant.

“Yeah, and you?” She asked.

“It wasn’t keys or a ‘card’ like you said. I think it’s the pin. See at the back? It looks like a sapphire.” Sure enough, on the back of the Capri’s golden rose shone a faint light. “It’s just a fleck.”

“I didn’t know they could be effective at that size. I’ll have to show Loren.” Timbrelle said.

“Like hell you will, this is my trophy from my conquest.” Adna guffawed. “How brazen.”

“Then you can show him. I don’t know if I can actually touch that without swallowing it.” She eyed it warily. “I’ve bricked that test enough times to know I don’t want to risk it.”

“See if you can follow me with the sapphire you ate the other day.” Adna directed.

Timbrelle nodded and threw back her drink. After considerable wheezing and regret, they meandered up to the hidden passage.

“You sure this is it? It doesn’t look like mu—woah!” Adna attempted a casual lean against the wall only to pass directly through it.

Timbrelle went to follow her and found the wall not to be solid or intangible but a viscous middle ground like firm gelatin. She could make it through, but only with concerted effort. This was eased along by hands pulling her through from the opposing side. She fell into Adna’s arms as they both panted.

“I didn’t like that one bit. It pulled my face backwards while my skull pressed forward. I will do anything to avoid experiencing that ever again.” She said in a whisper. “I have been extruded.”

“Keep moving.” Adna hissed. The formidable woman walked quickly and silently through the empty hallway. When they reached a “T” Adna waited for direction. Their options were a foreboding stairwell that led into abysmal darkness or a comparatively cheery empty hallway and faint sound of voices. As they made their way to the stairwell, they heard a door open behind them.

“It was clearly marked Tabecka’s lunch. Do it again and I’ll go to HR.” A high pitched voice said before whirling into the hallway and slamming the door behind her.

Their resulting mad dash had been anything but graceful. Timbrelle and Adna laid in a pile at the bottom of the stairs listening to the woman’s heels click away.

“Thankfully Tabecka can’t moderate her volume. Otherwise, I think she may have heard my femur snap.” Timbrelle groaned in a low voice. “Do your capers usually go like this?”

“Don’t call them ‘capers’. They’re called ‘jobs’. And no! I don’t usually have someone here to trip me!” Her eyes crazy and whisper furious. “I can honestly say I’ve never eaten an entire flight of stairs while trying to maintain stealth. This is absolutely a first!”

Timbrelle offered her a sheepish hand. “It’s my first ‘job’. I didn’t know what to do.”

Adna accepted the hand. “Yeesh, don’t say ‘job’ either if you’re going to sound like a cop.”

“That only leaves ‘date’.” Timbrelle said, headed into the void with hands held up in front of her.

“You look so dumb. Here.” She handed over a box of matches. “Waiter Guy had a whole pocket of them.”