Tristan returned to his room to find Zahra asleep while Ravyn and Cannoli were huddled at the headboard of the second bed. Dark circles framed Cannoli’s eyes, and Ravyn had one arm over her shoulder while Buttons and Ball Gag affectionately fussed at Cannoli’s hair and cheeks.

“Do you need me to leave?” Ravyn asked, tossing her head toward Zahra. “I don’t want to wake her.”

Tristan looked at the three girls in turn, then shook his head. He riffled through his [Cat Pack] and retrieved the plate he’d taken from the kitchens. The girls there had stacked it with fresh fruit, slices of bread, a wide selection of meats and cheeses, then secured it for easy transport with a lid. Nothing that big should have ever fit in his pack, but he’d learned to stop questioning the magic in Nyarlea.

He pried off the lid, and Ravyn stared at it with wide eyes, then licked her lips.

“I figured the two of you might be hungry. We could get some fresh air? There’s a room with a balcony nearby,” Tristan suggested. It had caught his interest during the short opportunity he’d had to explore between meals.

“I think that would do us both some good,” Ravyn replied, squeezing Cannoli’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go with him, Cannoli?”

Cannoli held a stuffed blue parrot close to her chest, avoiding Tristan’s gaze. After a stretched moment of silence, she nodded and stood. Ravyn sighed and followed, motioning for Ball to move to her shoulder.

They padded into the hallway, and Tristan led them down the expanse to a sitting room with lush sofas and polished tables. So far, it seemed unoccupied, and a pair of doors led outside to an expansive balcony with four chairs and a small glass table set between them. A fire pit was stationed near the balcony’s stone railing, and the kindling burst to life with a murmured word from Ravyn.

Tristan set the plate on the table and allowed the girls to choose where to sit before situating himself near the firepit. The flames lapped away the evening chill while thousands of stars blinked at them from overhead in a blue velvet sky.

Ravyn stacked squares of meat and cheese on a slice of bread before she passed it to Cannoli. “You need to eat.”

Cannoli stared at the offering and frowned.

“Please?” Ravyn added.

With quivering hands, Cannoli accepted the bread, then nibbled at its edge.

She has the same vacant stare as she did on Shi. Tristan ran a hand through his hair as he watched Cannoli gingerly eat. Cannoli locks all of her emotions away… “Cannoli, can I ask you something?”

Cannoli’s ears flickered in his direction, and she gave him a tiny nod.

“Of all the books I had on Shi Island, the ones Celestia said were the hardest to get ahold of are about Saoirse,” Tristan explained, careful to keep his voice neutral. “Can you tell me more about the goddess of Nyarlea?”

Ravyn visibly tensed, and her mouth pulled into a thin line. She crossed her legs, and the look she shot Tristan said he’d gone too far.

“I want to understand how you feel,” he added gently.

To his relief, Cannoli lowered her snack to her lap and met his gaze. “Saoirse is the Mother of all catgirls. She guides our queen and her subjects. We are created in Her image and carry Her line to our kittens. She is the reason we can use Magic and Skills, and by Her hand alone are we permitted to transcend Classes.”

“What about the men? It’s not Saoirse’s approval we need, right?” Tristan asked.

Cannoli looked at Ravyn.

“Men aren’t held to Saoirse’s… standards,” Ravyn said carefully, feeding a section of bread to Ball. “Once you have enough Levels and training for your next Class, your iPaw changes it for you.”

“However, men and iPaws are gifts from Saoirse as well,” Cannoli added.

“If you believe that, yeah,” Ravyn countered.

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Cannoli flinched as if she’d been struck.

Ravyn sighed. “Cannoli, your faith is your own. No one can take that from you—”

“You still don’t believe what Kirti did is wrong, do you? What she’s doing?” Cannoli snapped.

“Cannoli, hang on. Let’s back up.” Tristan moved his chair closer to Cannoli’s and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what Kirti’s doing.”

Cannoli’s tone sharpened, her words thick with malice. “[Witch Doctor]s should be persecuted and burned like [Necromancer]s—”

Tristan pulled his hand away and leaned forward, watching her face. “But they aren’t.”

“Departed souls belong in Saoirse’s care. It is Her judgment alone that will determine our eternity. Kirti not only delays Saoirse’s judgment, she interrupts its cycle by destroying souls to cast her Magic,” Cannoli snarled.

“The thing is, Kirti says they’re souls, but they might not be,” Ravyn said with the bland reassurance of someone repeating the same sentence a dozen times.

“What makes you say that?” Tristan asked.

“A lot of [Classes] need a cost satisfied to use Skills or Spells. Sometimes it’s an item, most times it’s Myana, and almost every cast takes a toll on Energy.” Ravyn grabbed a slice of cheese and ripped it in half. “What Kirti’s siphoning and using could be any one of those things.”

“I told you. I can feel them, Ravyn,” Cannoli whimpered and shivered. “I feel their sadness and their desperation.”

“Is it possible that you’re projecting your own emotions onto Kirti’s stones?” Tristan measured his words, guessing that Ravyn had said something similar.

Cannoli’s frown and furrowed brow confirmed that this wasn’t the first time she’d heard that conclusion.

“I know my experience is limited, but I read at least three books on the history of forbidding [Necromancer]s and another half-dozen on Nyarlea laws,” Tristan explained. “I admit, there’s very little out there I could find about [Witch Doctor]s, [Dark Priest]s, and [Demonologist]s, but if the queen herself believes them safe, maybe Kirti’s overplaying her role?”

Cannoli blinked. “Overplaying?”

“Exaggerating what she’s doing to get a rise out of you,” Ravyn supplied. “That’s what I said she’s been doing from the beginning. She’s a bitch and wants to watch you squirm.”

“But, I…” Cannoli trailed. “Matt, he…”

“Matt had to make a snap decision, or Ceres would have died,” Tristan finished for her. “Every choice has consequences.”

Cannoli was quiet for some time.

“I think you might look at this as him choosing Kirti over you, Cannoli,” Tristan continued. “But it really isn’t the case. He cares about you and would have done the same if it were you or Ravyn or Keke who was badly hurt.”

“I wouldn’t want him to do the same for me,” Cannoli countered.

“No, but we all make bad decisions when it comes to the people we care about.” Tristan laid his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay to feel mad and upset, even betrayed. But I can say for certain, Matt acted with the best of intentions.”

Ravyn fed Cannoli’s abandoned food to Ball and took her opposite hand. “We’ve all been through a ton of shit together. Tristan’s right, Matt’s a baka, but he’d never do something to hurt you on purpose. Or… any of us for that matter.”

Cannoli squinted her eyes shut and nodded. Her shoulders twitched, and her breathing was sporadic as she fought off sobs. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ravyn rubbed Cannoli’s back, and Tristan squeezed her hand.

Tears streamed down Cannoli’s face, and the twinges in her shoulders turned to shakes.

“It’s okay,” Tristan murmured. “We’re right here.”

Cannoli’s sobbing escalated.

Just let it out, Cannoli. Don’t keep the bottle closed.

Ravyn mouthed a silent Thank you. Tristan nodded his reply.

They stayed at Cannoli’s side until the early hours of the morning.

At last, Cannoli’s tears dried, and she wiped the streaks from her cheeks. She sniffled and rubbed her nose on the back of her wrist. “I’ll… I’ll apologize to M-Matt tomorrow.” Her voice was hoarse with crying, but it had lost its angry edge.

“Pfft, nah. Let him sweat over it for another day or two,” Ravyn replied with a wry smile.

For the first time in days, Cannoli giggled and pushed her hair away from her eyes. “You’re right. He is a b-baka.”

A baka that needs you.

Cannoli took a hand from Ravyn and Tristan and pressed them to her forehead. “Thank you both.”

“Anytime, sweet,” Ravyn crooned as she stroked Cannoli’s hair. “Anytime at all.”

Tristan quietly watched the exchange between them, surprised by Ravyn’s tenderness.

Your whole Party needs you, Cannoli.

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