Ben didn’t look at Daivad. He didn’t look at Tobei. He kept his eyes hidden beneath the frayed brim of his straw hat, his gaze trained on a spot of dappled sunlight along the wood floor of Daivad’s house, remembering the days the three of them had spent building this very room. Ben himself had woven the living ceiling of thin branches and little yellow-green leaves that now cut the sunshine into shifting speckles across the floor.

All he could see of the other two men, sitting across from each other on creaking wooden chairs, was their boots. Despite that, he could feel Tobei throwing anxious glances back and forth between Ben and Daivad, twisting the violin charm hanging from his neck around and around.

If Belle was to be believed, the queen was doing an excellent job building a team that could very well find them. Daivad didn’t seem overly concerned with Z Vigore, but the Ubika Clan were infamous in Lushale even though they hadn’t been seen on the mainland in fifty years. Once upon a time, the Ubika had served the crown as monster hunters and assassins, and there was no one better. A clan of killers, born and bred.

All Inhumans had heightened senses, but Selachian Inhumans topped them all with their sense of smell, even underwater. The Ubika were all Selachian, some even claiming they were direct descendants of the first Selachian, blessed with Inhumanity by the Serpent itself. As the Colonel said,

“There’s only two ways to escape a Selachian once your scent’s caught in his jaws,” Ben recited.

Tobei finished, “Kill him. Twice.”

“Which names the reason I have to go,” Daivad said.

Ben lifted his head to shoot Daivad a look from beneath his hat.

Without returning the look, Daivad responded to Ben’s unspoken comment, “I need you two to keep this place standing while I’m gone.”

Ben couldn’t help the sound of disbelief that slipped past his lips. He retreated once again behind the brim of his hat and focused back on the sun-dappled floorboards.

He could remember one of their first nights in this camp, before it was a camp. After a day of laying floor, growing beams, and erecting walls, they’d lain back to look at the canopy and the stars above. Delirious from riseberry smoke and exhaustion, Ben and Tobei couldn’t for the life of them stop giggling long enough to fall asleep. Even Daivad had cracked a few times. That night had been the first time in years that Ben had heard him laugh.

“Send me,” Tobei volunteered in a faux-light tone, sitting back in his chair. “Even wearing all that exhaustion over your face, it won’t be enough to mask those handsome features, Daivad, and if they’re spotted in Luvatha, a whole host of troubles could follow you home, even if you bury the Selachian along the way. I can take this Ubika—”

“He’s my problem,” Daivad argued.

Ben shot back, “So is this camp.”

Tobei cut in before Daivad could retort. “I can take one Selachian. Assign a guard to each of my sides if you want to err on caution, and we’ll see if we can’t find some rich bastard to rob on the way back. We’ll take his coin to Urden and fetch some food. You two stay and—”

“I’m going,” Daivad said, firm.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Ben shook his head, exasperated, scattering a petal or two.

“I can—”

“I’m going.”

Those young, stoned fools of some eight years ago, laughing all night about absolutely nothing had no idea what they would end up building in the years that followed. It started with, for the first time in their lives, their very own homes. Then the hanging gardens, the branch-bridges. The infirmary, the baths, the training grounds—before they knew it they’d built a village, and it was full to the brim.

Now the queen herself was coming for it, and a Selachian would be guiding her. To say nothing of the Colonel.

Was this all about to come to an end?

Tobei’s leg jiggled. Ben almost felt bad—Tobei hated it when Ben and Daivad fought. Ben could see him searching his own brain for a solution.

“Why are you doing this?” Ben asked Daivad, quiet.

“You named it yourself,” Daivad replied. “I have to kill him.”

“You don’t. This place is drowning, Daivad.”

“I’ll end him and be back within the week, and then—”

“Then come back with another fifty people?”

Daivad finally looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Should I have left them there?”

“Those weren’t my words.”

“What are your words?”

Ben had never been good at talking, and he was even worse at it when he was flustered. He spent most of his time with plants, not people. But it was what made him and Daivad such a good team—usually. Neither of them were skilled with words, or even willing to use them, but neither of them needed words. From the day some twenty years ago that Ben arrived at the Farm, the moment he had met Daivad, there had been an understanding, never spoken.

Nothing frustrated Tobei more than the way the two of them had just clicked—and nothing made Tobei more anxious than when they didn’t click.

Ben didn’t know how to argue, to articulate—because with Daivad he’d never had to. Daivad had to know his actions lately had been reckless, selfish, irresponsible, and he had to know why Ben was angry, so why was he feigning ignorance?

In the moment, here with a pissed off Daivad and an anxious Tobei both staring at him, waiting, Ben couldn’t even process all those thoughts bouncing around his head, much less craft words from them. It was too much, and Daivad wouldn’t listen anyway, so Ben just shook his head again, the carved tree charm attached to one of his dreadlocks knocking against his jaw, and turned to—

“Wait, wait.” Tobei jumped up, his mask of calm so precariously in place finally falling away. Ben stopped, but Tobei still came to block his path, just in case. “Ay, we’re grown men here. Well,” he considered the three of them, “two-and-a-half. We survived the Farm together, we fought a fucking war together, became fugitives and built this place together—we can figure this out together too.”

Tobei threw an arm over Ben’s shoulders and steered him back toward Daivad. “Listen to this idea, brothers. Tomorrow or the next, I’ll go into Urden and chat with Jukele. The man loves me—I’ll flirt a deal out of him, for some supplies to hold us over ’til next month’s shipment. That’ll free up both of you to take a trip to Luvatha that I’d name Dual-Purpose—one retreat to solve the problems of both this Kure Ubika and this conflict in your marriage. A common enemy to face, just like old times.”

On this idea, Ben and Daivad were once again of the same mind. Daivad said, “And leave you in charge?”

“Mother Dark, no,” Tobei cringed. “Kadie and Lenna can split leaderly duties. I’ll just seduce Jukele.”

Daivad didn’t look at Ben.

And Ben didn’t look at Daivad.

But neither of them argued.

Grinning, Tobei slapped Ben’s shoulder. “Excellent.”