“Are you sure it’s safe to leave her, and not stay behind yourself?” the wagon’s owner asks and I nod. We are loaded up into the back of the wagon now, with Ember sitting up front with dickweed. Or, uh, Turner, I think his name was. I can see now why one person needed to stay behind. With the twins, me, and the three original occupants of the back, we are all rubbing elbows behind the cargo.

“Oh definitely. If there is anyone here with a chance of knocking my ass flat, it’s Sarafyna. Don’t worry, if I am safe, she is,” I assure. I even mostly believe it. The truth is, I don’t plan on parting ways with Sara any time soon. But only the horses will notice that as she clings to the bottom of the wagon in a form I can only describe as soupy. Of course, if I wasn’t a coward, too afraid of leaving a loved one and never seeing them again, she would be perfectly capable on her own.

“Well, if you say so,” he reluctantly agrees. “We can get going then, uh…” he trails off before looking at me a bit sheepishly and speaking more quietly. “What was the Ailur’s name? Actually, I didn’t get anyone’s name, I’m sorry. That silliness with the duel distracted me. I’m Quinn, by the way.” Ember got the message despite the interruption and I feel the wagon start to move as I answer.

“She is Ember,” I answer easily. “And I am Annie. Pleasure to meet you, Quinn.” Quinn gives me a slightly surprised look but it fades as August introduces himself.

“August, and this is my sister, Autumn. She’s uh, not feeling particularly chatty. But we are pleased to meet you as well,” August chimes in as cheerfully as he can. Quinn gives Autumn a confused look before smiling back at me and gesturing at the two remaining passengers.

“This is my husband, Kobe, and our daughter, Gia,” Quinn introduces. I note that Gia actually shares a lot of features with Quinn and idly wonder if they used a surrogate or some other process.

“Nice to meet you!” Kobe, the shorter, Mediterranean man says as he cradles his baby daughter. “Is your name really Annie? That’s wild, is the scar real or are you just leaning into the whole thing?” I want to raise an eyebrow at him but do my best to suppress it. I have an unpleasant feeling that Ember left out yet another important detail.

“Kobe, I’m certain our guest doesn’t want to talk about her scars,” Quinn reprimands but I shake my head.

“No, please, I don’t mind in the slightest,” I assure. “The scar is, unfortunately, real. As you can imagine, I was less than pleased when I got it.” That should be vague enough. It’s an honest response that doesn’t let on that I am confused. Kobe clearly expects me to know what he means and, honestly, I’m a little afraid I do.

“That’s an insane coincidence! But hey, at least your name isn’t Lillith. The eyes, the scar, and even the name Annie? You’re right out of every kid’s nightmares!” Kobe laughs and Quinn blushes.

“I’m sorry, my husband lacks a filter. Look, we don’t believe in any of that nonsense. But you know how it is. What with the election coming up, sages always come up with new ways to get attention. Kobe just pays a little too much attention to that stuff,” Quinn apologizes.

“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” Kobe agrees. “Honestly, even if we did believe in prophecies, you can’t just add on to one whenever you want, right? I’m sure it’s been a headache for you ever since the ‘Annie’ thing came out. My condolences. Good on you for sticking to it, though.” That is equal parts irritating and interesting. So much for having a safe backup name. I will apparently also be immediately identified by appearance alone. Although Turner said nothing, so it’s not obvious enough to always be worth commenting on. I suppose a few women probably get looks for the black hair and red eye combo, assuming the eye color isn’t unique to Potestia. Which, obviously it is not.

It is interesting, if I am reading the implication right, to learn the name ‘Annie’ is a recent addition to this so-called ‘prophecy’. I wonder if it's the only part that has been added recently. I’ll have to wait until I get to the nearest city to know for sure. Hopefully they have invented the fucking printing press and newspapers in the Republic. If the warning of my impending horrors are a recent addition it should be easy to parse which bits are actually about me and, maybe, where the information is coming from. And of course, if this prophecy is part of an active political campaign, I can be sure of two things. The average person will be largely unaware of it, and it will be so in my face I will hardly be able to avoid it.

“Yes, well. I have been known to be stubborn. I promise I am not a demon queen, I don’t think,” I respond, injecting a dry humor into my voice.

“Even so, I would have expected you to choose something else to go by, just to avoid the headache,” Kobe countered.

“To quote a great, endlessly wise man, why should I change? She’s the one who sucks, right?” I say. Kobe laughs openly at this and Quinn cracks a smile. August chokes back a laugh as well, considering I technically insulted myself. That’s his only response, however. He is staying mostly quiet, focusing on his sister instead of the conversation. We discussed this ahead of time, deciding too many people who clearly knew nothing about the country would be suspicious. And August is honestly just a terrible liar, except by omission.

“I’ll drink to that!” Kobe chuckles and Quinn gently wraps his shoulder with a few knuckles.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“No drinking with Gia in the room, you know that!” he insists.

“I know, I know, it’s just an expression!” Kobe assures to a curt nod from his husband. I decide to take this opportunity to change the subject.

“So, how did the three of you end up with short-dick, long-jacket up there as an escort?” I ask and Quinn sighs.

“Ah, highwaymen. We were a larger convoy, with hired guards, but we were attacked on the road. Turner up there showed up out of nowhere and fought them off, but most of us had already been killed. In exchange for the fees we were supposed to pay our actual guards, he offered to escort us the rest of the way. Considering how easily he scared off those damn bandits, we figured it was worth it,” Quinn explains.

“A real shock to meet two women who can knock him on his ass like that on the road, after all that,” Kobe adds. “Turns out everyone makes a better guard than my brother ever did. SO much for all his boasting.” As he says this, something turns in my stomach, and I wonder if our rations are keeping poorly.

“Seriously, the way he told it he could fight a sage, but turns out most random travelers are more impressive than him,” Quinn agrees. I start to feel a little more queasy at this.

“Well give your brother some credit,” I respond. “Maybe if he’d been there he’d have done just as well,” I offer, feeling a little bad for the abused sibling, and starting to wonder if I’ll need to make a restroom stop soon.

“Oh he was,” Kobe sighs. “Charged in like an idiot and was one of the first to die.” I’d been settling in, letting the bumps in the road become familiar, but this forces me fully awake, a nameless dread settling over me as my eyes widen. That sickness starts to tighten inside me.

“I’m sorry, did you say your brother died on this trip?” I ask, just to be clear.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. His timing could have been better too; Mom is going to be furious at the loss of income,” he groans. I am cold and quiet. Autumn is finally paying full attention, horror clear on her face. Quinn and Kobe notice this and Kobe rushes to reassure us. “Oh don’t worry, it’s just an inconvenience, more than anything. We aren’t in financial trouble or anything!”

What is going on? I don’t understand this couple. “How long ago was this?” I ask and both men shrug, Kobe putting more nervous energy into rocking his silent daughter than before.

“A week or so,” Quinn answers.

“And you don’t care at all?” Autumn interjects, pain clear in her voice. “He’s dead and you don’t care at all? You lost someone, someone who tried to protect you, to protect your daughter, and you don’t even have a tear to share?” Her voice speeds up as anger and grief pour out of her. The couple before us look confused more than anything. A tear runs down Kobe’s face, but this only confuses him further. I can feel grief. I can feel my own, cold and hard. Autumn’s grief overflows like a poison well. And from these men I feel… nothing. Do they both have ASPD? What is… Something occurs to me and I hold up a hand to stop Autumn. “What, is this normal to you? Lily, they don’t care at all!”

“Autumn, I know. Just… give me a moment,” I say as calmly as I can. “Let me think.”

“Did she just… call you Lily?” Quinn asks. “I thought your name was Annie, but . . . Lily as in–” I shake my head, thinking of a lie so I can get to the important bit.

“I do sex work. The demon queen Lillith is popular right now and I look the part. It pays the bills. She has gotten used to calling me by my working name, that’s all,” I answer and he visibly relaxes.

“Right, that makes sense,” he responds as I fix him with a cold stare. I glance back at Gia. She really does look like him.

“Your daughter, is she adopted?” I ask and he rubs the back of his neck nervously but shakes his head.

“No,” Kobe answers. “Quinn had Gia before we met, from a past marriage. Why does it matter? Why do you two seem so agitated?” I let out a deep breath as August frantically tries to calm his angry sister.

“What happened to her mother? Divorce?” I press and this time it’s Quinn’s eyes that quiver a little despite his confusion.

“My wife died, if you really need to know,” Quinn responds in irritation. I still feel nothing from him, despite a growing sickness. Not like food poisoning I realize, more like sick hunger. The kind that makes all food sound unappetizing until you eat it. Gia doesn’t even look a year old yet, despite her eerie calm. His wife must have been alive as recently as six months ago, and he is already re-married?

“You ended up with Kobe pretty quickly, didn’t you?” I ask and Quinn shrugs.

“It was a bit of a whirlwind romance. Why does that matter?” Quinn asks, mildly offended.

They don’t feel it. They aren’t feeling any grief at all. Everyone is grieving. Everyone. But these two men, by all accounts kind men, don’t care that their loved ones are dead. Fuck, even the child feels no grief. Her silence begins to disturb me on a new level. She fights fatigue like any child but she doesn’t cry. She is frustrated, but not even a little sad.

“What is wrong with you people?” Autumn ask, “What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you breathe? How can you even breathe? I don’t . . . I don’t understand. What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t think it’s their fault,” I whisper. August and Autumn both look at me with near disgust while the men in front of me seem irritated. “I think . . . I think in a way it’s mine . . .” I say ‘I think’ because I haven’t confirmed it. But I know. I know the truth. It wasn’t anything I did. But they are like this because of me. Or because of people who are afraid of me. A lot of things about Ember are suddenly clicking into place. I can’t be certain, but I can test it. And I’ll know for sure when we get to the city.

I stomp on the floor once before raising my voice. “Their minds are being controlled. Ember's too, I think. Their minds, or maybe their hearts. They don’t have a choice. I don’t think they can grieve,” I announce. The wagon is silent for a moment as everyone processes what I’ve said in their own way. But Sara gets the message. That sickness twists inside me. It coils like a string, tension building with each twist. Sara is doing something. She is fighting something. And then, in a moment, it snaps.

It’s less than a second before I am drowning in fresh grief and Quinn’s vomit at the same time.