Palace of Governance, Acerbia

The dagger. Where was Tvorh's dagger? He couldn't leave the Palace without his dagger. Tvorh upended the mattress. Nope; nothing. In the desk drawer? Apparently not. This was bad, if he couldn't remember where he'd left his weapon.

Tvorh thumbed the hilt at his belt and hummed to himself, trying to recall the last place he'd seen it. He'd come in late last night from the Libraratory, stripped down to his underwear, climbed straight into bed; this morning, he'd hopped straight into the same pair of pants--

The hilt at his belt. He was wearing it. Bile, Tvorh was out of it. Late nights in the Libraratory with Thiyatt meant bleary-eyed mornings.

Generosus or not, Tvorh was never going to get over having been an urchin on the street. If he was going to wear his pants and leave the dagger, he might as well leave his pants, too.

He had to go. Thiyyatt was notoriously punctual, if that could be interpreted to mean "as unstable as a {pressive mine} and liable to explode over the least infraction, real or perceived." He could handle the temper tantrums. He just didn't want to.

A knock came at the door just as he was about to pull it open. What now?

It was a human-sized mound of cloth, one that would have been impenetrable to his eyes, had he had any. Still, his ears easily recognized the shape of the head peeking out from the summit of the mountain. As harried as he was, Tvorh couldn't help but guffaw at the ridiculous image. "Going somewhere, Aoife?" he asked as he pulled the door closed behind him.

"You tell me." The mound shuffled alongside him down the hall.

"You want me to tell you if you're going somewhere?"

"Fine. I'll tell you. You're going to the Libraratory, and I'm coming with you."

"Can't do that, Aoife. You know that." Dorsin had locked down access to the regia puella. Was it just Tvorh, or was the princeps getting more paranoid? "Thiyyatt's Gens business."

"The Sodality has a right to know what her deal is. Nobody else is taking care of it, so I guess that means everyone agrees it's my responsibility."

"I'm not gonna argue with the princeps. You're welcome to, but he can get kinda short if you don't go along with what he says. And Thiyyatt is gonna scream at me because I'm already late, and--I hate to say this because of how fetching you look, but I think that pile of cloth is kinda gonna slow me down."

"Fine." Aoife threw off the robes. Beneath, she was dressed in the same sensible outdoors attire that she had worn during Tvorh's Essay to the ruins. Apparently, she'd been ready for this discussion. "Better?"

"I guess so. I can't really see it. Anyway, look, Aoife--"

"Tvorh, just shut up and talk to me."

"Look. I really have to go. I've got a ton of stuff to do and nowhere near enough time to do it, and I'm not really in the mood for having my ears chewed off again today. Especially since I can't see without them. Thiyyatt really doesn't like it when I'm late."

Aoife snorted. "Whipped, just like the rest."

Tvorh halted. "Excuse me?"

"She says jump, and you ask, 'How high?' What's next-- she says, 'Gimme your knife,' and you say, 'Oh, sure, and if you're gonna gut me because I cut your bread diagonal instead of horizontal, I hope you can forgive me as I bleed out on the ground'?"

"What--I don't--"

"Can you have a thought of your own for once in your life?"

Why was she angry? What had Tvorh done to deserve this? Tvorh shook his head in hopes of clearing it, but all it managed to do was mix up Thiyyatt and Aoife in his thoughts, so that both of them were screaming at him at once. "I don't have time for this," he muttered.

"Make time."

"Take it up with the princeps."

Aoife threw her hands into the air. "And there it is again."

"Have I offended you somehow?"

"You're never around. The moment I finally get enough free time that I can spend it with you, you drop off the edge of Tellus. You say it's because of Thiyyatt, and you say it's because of the princeps, and that's totally wrong."

"What would you know about it?"

"Everything! I know, for example, that Hrega and Bilr are lonely because they miss you."

Tvorh's sisters? "That's stupid. Why would they miss me? I see them all the time."

"Oh?" Aoife leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. "When was the last time you spent some time with them?"

"Yesterday. Dinner."

"When you said, 'Hey,' scarfed down your food and then ran back to the Libraratory? I was there, Tvorh. I spend more time with them than you do, because they need an older sibling and, well, looks like I'm it."

"You don't have to--"

"Did you know that Senrii gave them both pet jungle wolves?"

"What?"

Aoife nodded. "For riding and training. I'm not surprised you didn't notice. The way I hear it, you were way too interested in her."

"Princeps Dorsin commanded me to help Thiyyatt with her inquiry!"

Aoife rounded on Tvorh. "And you hopped right on that, didn't you? You are always hopping to. Where's the heart you used to show back when you wouldn't let anybody push you around?"

"Back when I was starving on the street? That wasn't heart. That was survival. That was what I did because I had to make sure my sisters could live."

Aoife gritted her teeth. "You keep on talking about Dorsin this, Dorsin that, as if he's your cover for never having any time for anyone, but even he spends time with his kids and his wife. Do you really think you're busier than he is, that you can't be bothered to spend any time at all with me? No, never mind me! What about your sisters? Don't hide behind the princeps. Be a person, Tvorh, not a Tool!"

"What Thiyyatt knows could make or break Gens Nethress. If I'm spending days and nights and weekends in the Libraratory with her, it's because she's useful."

Aoife snorted. "Useful."

"That's right."

"That's not you, Tvorh. You've never in your life treated other people as if they're useful. You've only ever treated them as if they're people."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe you're spending all your time there because there's something you actually like spending your time with there," Aoife growled. "And the least you could do for Ductrix Senrii and your sisters and me is to own up to it, so that we know not to wait up for you."

Tvorh threw up his hands in frustration. "I'm not ignoring you guys."

"No? Maybe it just looks different from here. Who knows? Maybe I'd get better results from you if I wiggled my ass at you like Little Miss Screw Me Blue, downstairs!"

As soon as she'd said it, Aoife clapped her hands over her mouth, but Tvorh was too deep in the heat of the argument to care. "Pretty rich, coming from an acolyte Uxor!"

As soon as he'd said it, he regretted it.

Aoife drew in a sharp breath. "How dare you? I like you, Tvorh! I thought of you as a friend! I thought we were getting along so well! And then along comes that-- that-- hussy, dumping her pheromones all over you, and you forget I even exist!

"And me? I haven't even touched you. I haven't ever tried to force you to spend time with me because I've always respected you and figured you could be your own person and make your own decisions. Do you like the pheromones? Do they make it easier for you to be somebody else's slave? Would you like it better if I could use some against you, make you a little drone bee in my orbit?"

"I haven't touched her either," Tvorh roared. "She's useful and she's crazy and yeah, maybe she's a little exotic and that's interesting to me. But it doesn't mean she's controlling me or that I've forgotten about you or Hrega and Bilr or anybody else. It just means I'm really busy."

Aoife out breathed so loudly it almost broke Tvorh's ears. "You'll always be busy, Tvorh. I want us to mean enough to you that you're willing to say no once in a while. To pick us, rather than always picking what somebody else has chosen for you."

"And now you're just trying to force me into what you've chosen for me, huh?"

Aoife flinched as if struck. "So you really don't want us, then." Her voice was calm, still, empty. "You really don't care enough to choose us on your own. I'm trying to tell you something important, and all you care about is how much of an imposition it is."

"I don't even know why we're having this argument!"

"We're having this argument because you mean something to me!" Aoife said, then started as if she'd surprised herself with the words. "Wish to hell you felt the same," she muttered.

"Aoife--"

She put up a hand and turned to walk away. "Don't bother, Tvorh," she said. "You're too busy for this bile."

Speechless, Tvorh watched her go. Did she think that he and Thiyyatt were... mating?

Was she jealous?

Tvorh didn't know how to make her understand that it wasn't about Thiyyatt. It was about proving to Gens Nethress that they'd made the right choice in adopting him.

It was about making sure that his sisters and he never went hungry again.

And now Tvorh was late. Thiyyatt was going to be more frustrated than a neuter Chimera in heat.

Tvorh half-walked, half-ran to the Palace vehicle pool. Underneath the high green canopy of it, he squeezed between forgebone chassis and climbed up to the landing platform where he'd left his lungboat.

His lungboat. He still had a hard time believing it. It was an excessed military vehicle and one of its right lungs had a wheezing problem, but for all of its age and illness, it was his own, a fact he couldn't help but remember every time he climbed in.

The seats were hard and uncomfortable. When he awoke the system, they wheezed painfully and the boat lurched to one side. He bound the boat's nervous system to his own and linked to the ocular units that had been installed just for him so that he could see where he was flying.

It was his. It was the one thing that made him feel as rich as the Generosus he supposedly was.

Tvorh coaxed the lungboat out of the vehicle pool. When it reached the open air, it seemed to breathe more easily. Maybe it just liked the wide-open sky as much as he did?

Too soon, Tvorh landed next to the Welcome Frieze and took the elevator below.

The lower door opened to reveal a gigantic crowd surrounding--well, Tvorh couldn't quite sense whom, but he knew anyway. He pushed into the ball of people. Legionnaires, syntheticians, inquirers of all sorts stood stiffly, refusing to give way as he pressed inward.

There she was at the center of the crowd, crawling on her hands and knees and staring intently at the white mist that swirled along the floor. Tvorh's heart fluttered at the sight of her, and he wasn't sure if the frisson that shot down his spine was due to her mere presence or the pheromones in the air. Probably both. "Thiyyatt!" he called as he emerged into the small open space around her.

Thiyyatt didn't look up. "Only one would dare address me so."

"You have to release them, Thiyyatt."

Thiyyatt sighed and leaned back onto her knees, fixing her eyes on him, probably. "I have not harmed them in any way."

"That doesn't matter. The legionnaires have to guard the entrances--"

"I could defend this position better than ten thousand of your soldiers, low-born Tvorh."

Tvorh groaned. "The inquirers. They have things to do."

"No inquiry that they might perform could possibly approach the import of my research here. I may have need of their expertise."

"Then call them if you need them."

"A waste of the time and energy of their betters."

"Thiyyatt. Let them go."

Tvorh was fairly certain she rolled her eyes. "As you wish." Anti-lavender filled the air, and the people stirred.

When she'd released the men and the women of the Libraratory after the first time claiming them for her own, there had been a great deal of confusion as they'd come back to their senses. It sounded as though by now they were used to it; fewer "What happened?"s and "What was that?", more muttered curses directed toward her.

Tvorh knelt down on the floor next to Thiyyatt, where she could more easily interact with the aerosol. He felt better when he was mirroring her; less like a slaver or a slave, more like a colleague. Or a friend. "You can't keep doing that."

"You refuse to teach them respect for their betters. If they would do as I said, it would not be necessary to force them."

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"You're our guest, but you're not their Era."

"Not yet."

"Not ever. And if you want their respect, consider showing them the same."

Thiyyatt leaned forward again and put her eye to the ground. "Did you learn this living on the streets, low-born, high-blooded Tvorh?"

"I did what I had to to--what? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I am sure you learned your punctuality in the same place."

"I was busy! And you're not my boss."

Thiyyatt gave her shark-grin. "Not yet. Tvorh, between the apple and the whip, I prefer the apple. My need is great, and so is that of your Gens. I must retain the services and presence of those who may be able to help me."

"That's not it at all. You want a bunch of people to bow and scrape and treat you like a Queen."

Thiyyatt released a puff of pheromone that made Tvorh feel giddy and lightheaded. She'd taken to doing that to express amusement or satisfaction. "Of course I do, Tvorh. What Era worth her status would not?"

"They won't really be bowing and scraping and treating you like a queen unless you let them choose to do it."

"Would you choose to do it, Tvorh? Would you bow before me and kiss my feet and worship me?"

"Um. No. I think I already made that pretty clear."

Thiyyatt sat back on her thighs. "That which others will not give willingly, then, must be forced gently from them. But I will keep to our agreement, Tvorh, and respect you as my jailer."

"That'll be a first. Why are you in such a good mood?"

Another pleasant burst of scent. "I am close, Tvorh. So very close." She pointed at the mist. "Look at the form of the cure."

"It's an aerosol."

"No! Look closer, into the true form of it. Use your true eyes."

"I can't. I don't have those."

"Ah, yes. The barbarians refuse to replace them."

"They don't want to mess me up as I grow. We can't gengineer new eyes directly, and using Stigmata versions, a STIGMOS, or direct regeneration could end up failing at this age. I've got another five or ten years to go."

Thiyyatt made a throaty noise of confusion, but the sound of it did funny things to Tvorh's insides. "Stigmata. SOPHIOS-built organs, engineered externally to the body and then transplanted into the users. No Wisdom for the Stigmatized. Anti-rejection drugs." She shook her head. "Barbaric. You have fallen so far, Tvorh son of Ysur."

"But anyhow, if you want me to look at the aerosol, that's still possible. I have a STIGMOS that will let me link nervous systems with you."

Thiyyatt leapt to her feet. "You would dare to--"

For once, he didn't blame her for her reaction. Aoife had said nearly the same thing the first time they had tried it. "I won't do anything to you. I'll just look out your eyes."

"You would crawl inside me and defile me?"

"You didn't seem to mind that idea so much a couple of weeks ago."

The spicy scent of outrage gathered around Thiyyatt as she let out a sound somewhere between a snort, a laugh, and choking. When she was like this, it was best to remain quiet. She'd start seeing more clearly again if she wasn't taunted.

"You--you would--" Thiyyatt let out a deep breath. "You would use me as the butt of your jokes." She shook her head and sighed; the spice around her faded into a sweeter, more pleasant aroma. "There are few in the world who so dare."

"Probably just one. And that's me. Well, maybe two. Or three. Now." Tvorh held up his hand toward her. "Link up?"

She stared at the offered palm.

"Trust me."

"Trust?" The scent of amusement. "Trust is unnatural." Still, she took his hand and knelt down.

"You'll feel a little prick," Tvorh said as he actuated the STIGMOS.

He could swear she grinned at the comment.

Their nerves linked, and Tvorh saw. He gasped at the sight of her hand gripping his own; it was as deep indigo as he had heard. And the hair that she brushed back from her eyes? Royal violet.

He was looking out of her eyes and couldn't see it, but he imagined that her face was just as easy to appreciate.

You are pleased, Thiyyatt thought to him.

He wasn't going down that path with her, not now. I told you I'd only link eyes with you.

No matter. Come. Look. Thiyyatt leaned in toward the mist; Tvorh almost followed suit until he remembered that there was no need for him to move.

A speck in the golden floor beneath became a boulder, and tiny eddies in the aerosol became visible. Then the mist was clouds, and cumulus forms resolved within. And still the view telescoped in.

That's insane, Tvorh thought.

Have you no such STIGMOS?

We have STIGMOS that work on the eyes, sure, but nothing that shows detail like that.

Tiny shapes floating in the mist were becoming visible now. There, Thiyyatt said, turning her attention toward one. That is the packet that we seek.

Packet?

The particle within the aerosol. Observe its shape. Simply a round pouch.

Yeah?

And within... The view zoomed closer, until it was possible to see through the transparent walls of the pouchlike particle. That which we desire.

The interior of the pouch was a cosmos unto itself, so maddeningly busy and well-packed that Tvorh couldn't make out any discrete components of the cure, no matter how closely he looked. Thiyyatt sensed his confusion. Xenokaryotic cells with attached reverse myoviral injector phages. Antibodies for blocking genophages. And, of course, the plasmid set.

It's not just one cure. It's--

Hundreds. Yes. Thiyyatt sounded impressed. Why wouldn't she be? Her own people had invented it. Tvorh's mom was just the dispersal mechanism.

So how do we produce it? His mind whirled through possibilities and settled on their recent conversation. If we had a STIGMOS for a cure-producing organ, we could instill it in the Magi.

A flash of insight through the connection. Perhaps even in your barbarically Stigmatized men and women. I will create such a STIGMOS.

You can do that?

Of course. How else would you discover new STIGMOS? By seeking them out in the wild?

Well... yes.

Thiyyatt thought a sound that was obviously the mental equivalent of a guffaw.

I know, I know. We're barbarians.

We must gather the half-Bound for this. Summon the inquirers. We shall require their efforts as well.

Tvorh sensed the shadow of Thiyyatt's actions through the bonds. She absorbed a portion of the mists into herself and focused on the genetic material contained within.

Now her Symbiont pulled apart the tiny packages and analyzed the nucleic acids within...

Tvorh caught glimpses, flashes, of meaning, but the various plasmids were too complicated for him to understand; he had never been trained in genetic alteration, and the Symbiont within him could only translate so much.

She'd wanted purple-blooded assistants, hadn't she? Tvorh turned his attention outward--

They were surrounded by an enormous crowd of men and women, standing stock still.

I told you to stop controlling people.

The shared comprehension shattered. Heat and rage flashed throughout Thiyyatt's mind. Stupid boy. I was in the midst of--

Tvorh had had enough of being told what to do by spoiled girls today. Stop controlling people! How many times do I have to tell you?

I ordered you to summon them, and you did not. Thiyyatt thought the words as if they were plainly obvious.

You don't get to give me orders!

Tell me, boy-child, what would you have me do, when I have requested that you perform a necessary duty that I might fulfill my part of a bargain, and you refuse? Would you have me harry you over and over again, or take matters into my own hands?

I was getting to it, Tvorh protested.

Not quickly enough.

Just let them go, Thiyyatt.

The bond fumed, but the inquirers began to shake off the daze. Before they could travel too far or mutter too loudly in their anger, Tvorh said, "Anybody who has a half-Bond, please stand by. We're going to need your help. The rest of you are dismissed. Now," he announced to the irate inquirers surrounding them, "we need to analyze the anti-genophagic mist--"

Angry shouts broke out.

"You can't be serious."

"We've already tried that."

"There's nothing comprehensible to be found there."

"Unbelievable waste of time."

"Four months fruitless, and he wants us to jump right back in?"

"Blue-blooded arrogance."

Tvorh, Thiyyatt thought, I need them.

They say it's pointless.

I do not need their individual analyses. I need the aggregate.

You want me to link to them?

Yes.

"Uh, folks? Folks! Hey!" Tvorh gave a brief, sharp whistle. "Listen up! We're going to try something new. We're going to-- shut up, I said, and listen to me! We're going to link up on a neurological level and, um... share our findings like that."

A gestalt, Thiyyatt thought.

"A gestalt." What?

The silence that reigned was worse than the upset whispers. "You're going to invade our brains?" somebody had the courage to say at last.

"No," Tvorh said.

Yes, Thiyyatt prompted him. Or would you lie to gain their cooperation? Is that what "agreement freely given" means to you?

"Well," Tvorh admitted, "sort of. I've never done this before. I'm not quite sure how it'll work with more than one person. But I'm certain that--"

"She messes with our heads every single day," somebody shouted, "and now you're going to do it too?"

"I'm not going to mess with your heads," Tvorh said. "That wouldn't do me any good. We want you using your brains in order to analyze this thing. You'll still be yourselves. We just really, really, really need this gestalt, all right? So please, come here and take my hand." He wiggled his free hand.

Nobody moved.

"Now."

Nobody moved.

"You," he said, pointing to a young man. "Now. Here."

"But--"

"Blood, bones, and bile! Am I an Erus or not?" Tvorh thrust out his hand toward the man.

He felt Thiyyatt smile.

Seeing no other option, his chosen victim stepped forward and gingerly took it.

Tvorh formed the bond with him, and another consciousness sprang into existence in his mind. "Now," Tvorh said, "we're gonna--" His voice fell away as he saw the world through the young man's eyes. And not only the world, but Thiyyatt.

She really was that gorgeous.

Never mind that. Tvorh summoned his will and ignored the psychopath's beauty. "We're gonna," he repeated, "show you that there's nothing to be scared of--"

A thought rippled through Thiyyatt's bond. Hello, wasteling. Shock and fear pulsed through on the other side.

It's nothing! Tvorh said. It's just her talking to you. Calm down.

There is nothing to be afraid of, Thiyyatt thought. Tell me your name, wasteling.

Orick, the man replied after a long pause.

Orick, Tvorh thought, I'm going to let you go now. You tell the others there's nothing to be afraid of, now that you've tried it, okay?

The bond vanished, and Tvorh felt Orick turn around unsteadily. "It's all right," he said at last, though his voice was quivering and he rubbed at his palm. "They didn't hurt me. I think it's fine."

"See?" Tvorh said. "Nothing to be scared of. Come on. Join hands."

The circle linked up slowly and painstakingly. It was a difficult task: commanding the SOPHIOS to thread a single strand of nerve through dozens of linked hands was hard enough, and the ever-increasing complexity of the network required all of Tvorh's attention.

He could handle the connection with eleven members, but by that point, most of the others were moaning both mentally and verbally. Tvorh could even feel Thiyyatt sweating through the bond. After they cut the numbers down to an even half-dozen, the group's psychology stabilized.

Now, Thiyyatt said, her bond pulsing strange and alien concepts, it is time for us to work.

Tvorh had known intellectually how direct gengineering operated, but he had never seen it in action. The half-Bound, bearing quiescent, mostly powerless (and cheap) SOPHIOS within themselves, would never be able to assimilate STIGMOI, but they could still command their Wisdoms to make direct alterations to DNA.

It was the half-Bound architect who designed the living trees and bone buildings for his city; it was the half-Bound zoologist who created hellbeasts to defend the holdings of his Gens; it was the half-Bound inquirer who designed hardy new forms of crops to grow in the limited living space that the Gentes had painstakingly cleared from the Wildlands. Only human DNA was forbidden them.

This was their job. Tvorh was just the traffic cop for their minds, but on this day he experienced their work.

Thiyyatt's mind, her powerful Symbiont pulsing in counterpoint to each thought, poured like a river through the genes that she had absorbed from the mist. Each idea that she expressed was part word, part concept, part incomprehensible gibberish that Tvorh's Symbiont nevertheless picked up on.

He heard echoes through the bond of the powerless Symbionts of the purple-blooded as they lent their minds to the task, their anger vanishing beneath growing interest.

This allele obviously managed the standard retroviral self-production, but how were the reverse phages bound into the xenokaryotes? Were they looking at simply a chimerical merger of virus with cell, or was this a new kingdom of life entirely? The antibodies--some of them were utterly different from the rest. Were there different species of genophage that had to be handled?

And the floating plasmids were so numerous, so varied in type, that Tvorh's head swam to think about them. The half-Bound had failed at reverse engineering the anti-genophage genetics because of the sheer complexity of the system. It wasn't one cure: it was dozens, hundreds, of interlocking parts. No wonder they hadn't succeeded.

Tvorh drifted mentally, listening to the discussion through the wisdom of his Wisdom, which lent its own interpretation to the proceedings. He allowed the currents of the discussion to pull him this way and that, memorizing everything that he could about this incomprehensible topic.

And then, as he passed into a fugue that was neither sleep nor waking, Tvorh learned what Thiyyatt had meant by "Gestalt." He found himself daydreaming about watching as his indigo-skinned sister was hung upside-down against the crystal teardrop that hung above his throne, about smiling with satisfaction as the thunderbees stung her to death and her agonized cries echoed through the chamber.

Through the inquirers, he, a seventeen-year-old who'd never been with a woman, had sons and daughters and granddaughters and mothers and fathers to spare. He was boy and girl both, and half a dozen sets of memories collided in his mind. The shattering impact awoke him; five hearts were racing, frightened, angered, terrified, and six minds shouted in confusion.

Without even meaning to, he deactuated the STIGMOS. The bond disappeared, but one crazed mind was still gibbering in his head. His SOPHIOS, so wide awake thanks to his reliance on it during the analysis of the genes, now had no xenokaryotic organs to maintain and no distractions to draw its attention away from Tvorh.

Meeeee! The Wisdom lashed out at his body, indexing the thunderbees-- thunderbees?--that he'd seen in Thiyyatt's mind against its available STIGMOS.

Either a stinger was forming on his rear, or the Symbiont could cause hallucinations and strange sensations. Tvorh slapped down the mutation and restored himself to his natural form, but already a new one was forming: the insect's compound eyes. He eliminated that transformation as well as an eel's electrical stripe formed on his head.

The Chimerization struggle was a chase through his genes, the Symbiont always dancing and twirling ahead of him as it twisted his body out of its natural shape; he gaining ground slowly as he set right its violations. He only had to hang on and not give up.

His SOPHIOS slouched, plodded slowly through his flesh. With each new mutation that it induced, Tvorh was able to heal two more, then three, then four. When it fell fully back into somnolence, Tvorh didn't even notice; he simply found himself searching his body for the next transformation to restore, but found none.

None. He was done. The Chimerization struggle was over, then.

A haughty cough up above him drew his attention. Thiyyatt was standing, hands on her hips, and probably glowering. Based on her scent, she wasn't happy. The purple-bloods were nowhere to be seen. "Barbarian."

"Give me a minute."

"I have already given you several. You ought not to have released our gestalt."

"I didn't have a choice."

"Next time, you will endure the shock. I was at my most insightful at that moment, and you broke it."

"Fine. Let's go."

Thiyyatt shook her head. "It is too late. Once the half-Bound recovered and realized the hour, they departed from their homes."

Tvorh had come in in the morning. "How long were we linked?"

"I do not know, but the stars are shining above." She pointed at a clear skylight in the long stretch of ceiling overhead.

"And... how long was I fighting? The Chimerization, I mean."

"As I said. Several minutes."

They'd been linked for hours, then. Tvorh couldn't understand it. The time had flown so swiftly. "The stars are out," he repeated, and a powerful yearning to look at them came over him.

Thiyyatt reached down a hand, and he took it, preparing to link with her again. She yanked him to his feet and released him. "Go. Return tomorrow, and be punctual. We have a great deal of work to do."

Tvorh was too tired to fight; he did as she asked, returning numbly to the Palace. Once there, he knocked on Aoife's door, and she answered in her sparse bedclothes; seeing who it was, she slammed the door in his face.

So much for seeing the stars that night.

When Tvorh got back to his chamber, he found a covered tray of cookies on his bed, and a note reading, "I never thanked you properly. -Oralie"

Tvorh would share the cookies with his sisters tomorrow.

Right now, he really needed one himself.