“Alpine, you see comfortable.”

Al looked up from his book and saw Telbarisk crouching down next to him. “I am. How are you doing? Are you too hot?”

“It is a bit warm for my comfort, but I’m doing well. I’ve never seen you unclothed as much as you are.”

Al looked down. He was wearing loose fitting trousers and his shirt was open in the front. “The locals all dress like this. I think it’s too hot for them to dress like they would in New Wextif.”

“Is it okay if I don’t wear clothing?”

“Yeah, that’s…wait. You still have to wear pants. There’s never a point when you can’t wear pants.”

“But, I can take my shirt off?”

“Yes. And your shoes.”

Telbarisk grinned and threw off his shirt. He looked down again. “What are you reading?”

Al turned the book so he could read the title. “It’s a secondary source about trirecs. This man supposedly spent time with one who was dying and he gave up a bunch of secrets. It’s likely complete fiction, and I’ve noticed quite a few errors, but it’s interesting.”

“That doesn’t seem like what you normally read.”

“No, it’s not Kiesh the Black or an alley novel. But, I found this and thought it might help me figure out some better way of getting Raulin out of Arvarikor.”

Telbarisk’s smile started with his eyes. “I had worried that you wouldn’t want to help him anymore.”

“I’m still upset with him. He needs to apologize to Anla and start treating her better. I mean, you’d think he’d treat her the best since he loves her and all. But, even if he doesn’t apologize, I think this is the right thing to do. He obviously wants to leave and it would be better for a lot of people if he did.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“No,” he said dejectedly. “I still don’t have enough information. But, I’m going to keep trying.”

“Thank you,” Tel said.

* * *

The more Raulin thought about it, the more he was sure he was right. It was revenge, plain and simple. Despite how loud Anla had protested that she would never get even with anyone ever again, Raulin knew all too well that everyone had their breaking point. This, apparently, had been hers.

Her plan, he surmised, was to seduce Raulin in hopes that he would fall in love with her. Then, when she had him wound around her little finger, sometime right before the chalice spell was finished, she would break his heart. There were many ways that could go, but he suspected she would find some man to bring to her room so that Raulin could catch her, followed by how Raulin had been so unsatisfying and boring that she’d had to find someone else. It had a certain poetic justice to it. It made sense.

Raulin almost grabbed another bottle of rum for the beach, but instead headed to his room. It was fine to drink to excess once in a while, but not four nights in a row. He had to handle that piece of information in miserable sobriety. How happy he had been for such a brief amount of time.

The bed was rather comfortable. He pulled the satin sheet over himself and stared above at how the netting collected like a star. He sighed. She had been so beautiful, so incredible. How many times had he thought about it, playing that scene over in his mind? How much time had he spent yearning for her, waiting and hoping?

He shook his head sadly and cut off his brooding. This was another contract, he decided. He was hiring himself to withstand this campaign of hers. He would avoid her. He would say ‘no’ to any offers in the future. He would be polite, but he would not stand for her to do this to him.

It was a solid plan that helped him sleep easier. He awoke, did his exercises, ate breakfast, explored Kila’mauli and spoke with some townsfolk, walked the beach, and finally ate a wonderful dinner of roast chicken with an orange glaze. He walked the beach again, collecting a few shells along the way, and retired to his room.

There was someone there waiting. He put the shells down on the cabinet at the top of the stairs and quietly tried to peer through the netting. The figure was sitting in the bed, her arms resting on the edge as she looked out the open window. Since he doubted there was more than one woman with pointed helices on Laneleis, it had to be Anla. She was being more daring.

This was a test, then. He disrobed and sank into the bed, ignoring her. This revenge of hers wasn’t going to work if he didn’t participate. He would treat it as a mistake, a regret. He would turn this upside-down on her.

But, there she was, so breathtaking even when she was just watching the sun set. His hand reached out to touch her back. He paused for a moment, warning himself against this. She would win if he let his needs take over. After a few aching moments, he sighed internally and let her win. When his fingertips touched her skin, she didn’t startle away, instead arching into his touch with a gasp. His hand slid up and over her shoulder, his lips touched her neck. It felt natural, like a well-worn river cutting through a glen. It felt amazing. It felt right.

She was gone when he awoke the next morning, though he remembered her falling asleep in his arms. He brought his hands to his face. What was he going to do? Once was forgivable in this game, twice was far from just a mistake. She had him. If only she knew she’d always had him. He realized he couldn’t say “no” if this happened again. He’d continue to fall into this trap.

It didn’t have to be over, he decided. Would revenge taste as sweet if she didn’t hate him as much, if he apologized and told her about his deal with the Cumber, if he promised to leave then and there to find Garlin?

He didn’t see her all that day and he wondered if she changed her mind. She wasn’t waiting in his bed when he went to sleep. It was when he began to doze off that he was pulled back to consciousness by the smell of the perfume he’d gotten her. He opened his eyes and saw her looking down at him, wearing only the necklace he’d given her for her birthday. He reached for her, drawing her mouth to his, holding her as tightly as he dared. It wasn’t the time to discuss things and he fell asleep shortly after their tryst, so his words were unspoken. She was there when he awoke and he began a polite conversation while he exercised and she laid in bed. When she didn’t respond, he looked in and found she was already gone.

And it was the same for the rest of the month. At some point she’d find him and they would entangle themselves after a look or a few silent moments. They’d find some creative bolt to spend their passions. He’d kiss her, try to start a conversation, then be disappointed when she’d startle away.

His disappointment wasn’t just because his plan was failing. He had considered this the most delicious kind of torture he’d ever had, an inverse of the normal where he was blissfully happy while it was happening and aching for it in the hours between. And “aching” was such a flat word to describe what he felt. It was anguish and need and desperate pleading with himself to do what he needed to in order to stop those interim times and make her his somehow. He’d take the Cumber’s deal, or Al’s plan, if only she’d talk to him and see that he couldn’t stand life anymore without her.

The month ended with painfully shy progress and he kicked himself for it. They had gotten to small talk, maybe a little further. He’d given her the seashell necklace and she thanked him, putting it on immediately. But then he’d kissed her neck and the conversation had halted. There had been one other time where she had laid next to him on the beach and they had talked about cloud shapes for a few minutes before she had carefully moved a piece of his hair out of his eye and looked at him for a few moments before kissing him. It was moments like those that made him second guess himself and hope that he had been wrong.

He donned his mask again and met the group back at the wharf. As they waited for the ferry to come for Uilaida, he realized it wasn’t just Anla he was having trouble speaking to. It was like an invisible hand was around his throat, stopping him from speaking. He cleared his throat and they turned to look at him. “I, uh, wanted to apologize. For Riyala and anything else I might have done to cause you pain or your ire.”

Al gave him a cool gaze, a nod, then looked away at the sea. Anla met his eyes for a moment, then looked away. Tel smiled at him, then moved closer to him.

“You look well, Raulin,” he said. “I hope you had a good holiday.”

“I did. I hope yours was nice as well.”

They chatted about what Tel had learned about Ervaskin and how he had gotten a bad sunburn the first day. He’d spent most of his time in the thicker parts of the forest, eating what food was available.

“I should have given you money, Tel. I’m sorry.”

“No need. I only needed a little and Alpine gave it to me.”

The ferry arrived shortly thereafter and it took the rest of the day to arrive at Uilaida, the largest island in Genale. It would take them the better part of a week to travel to Aparista, the northernmost city that would allow them to take a ship to Miscomme, Hanala, or New Wextif.

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Raulin sat on a wooden chair and spoke with Tel, trying to glean something about what Anla was doing. A confirmation would help immensely, but the grivven grew obviously uncomfortable every time the conversation swayed to Anla. “She has had a lot to think about” and “change takes a lot of strength” were the most concrete answers he got from him.

At least Telbarisk was back to being friendly with him. His next course was to work on the wizard, who had picked up his stilted attitude back at the wharf. He tried small talk to no avail. He even tried striking up a conversation about alley novels. While Al wasn’t rude, he wasn’t forthcoming with his answers.

They landed in Pies’rael just before dinner. They traveled up the main road a few miles and struck camp. Once things were settled, Anla announced that she was going to go for a walk. The look she gave Raulin suggested he would be very foolish not to follow her. He waited until Al was distracted, then left, doffing his mask at the first opportunity.

“Anla?” He didn’t see her until she moved out from behind a tree.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

He obeyed, an amused smile on his face. When fabric was placed in his hand, he opened his eyes and looked down. It was her traveling tunic. He looked up and around and spotted her down the deer trail a ways, understanding the game immediately and running to catch her. Maybe the apology had helped.

She was seriously benefited by her upbringing, but Raulin hoped the game didn’t involve him actually catching her or else he’d never win. He slid through underbrush, wet from recent rains, over rich, brown dirt, past large, green leaves. He lost her at one point until her skirt fell onto his shoulder from a nearby tree. She took off again, laughing as she ran naked through the forest.

He was close and so he picked up the pace. He could almost reach out and touch her. And he just about did, but his height disadvantaged him. She had ducked underneath a thorny vine that he walked right into, slashing his forehead painfully. Raulin stopped and sucked in a breath, touching his fingertips to the wound and bringing them back red.

She turned back and her grin dropped. “Raulin,” she said softly.

“Got you.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

She pulled back. “Your face.”

“It’s all right.”

“But, you’re bleeding. Into your eye.”

Yes, he had noticed that, having closed it. “It’s all right.”

She grabbed her clothes and put them back on. “You need to take care of that.”

“But…” he began, then stopped when he realized he was whining.

“Let’s go see Al.”

“I doubt he wants to help me. And I’m fine.” He followed her, putting his mask on. The moment was ruined, but at least he’d gotten a conversation out of her. “Hey, um, you know I’m sorry about Riyala, right?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I was in the wrong and I behaved very poorly.”

“I know.”

That was all he could say. She wasn’t inviting conversation about it, so he felt that saying any more would be like flogging a clean carpet. It didn’t feel like things were back to normal, though. One step at a time, he told himself. This was discussion in a good direction. If only he could deal with this cut, which had already begun to itch.

* * *

At this point, Al was merely keeping his promise, though he didn’t want to. He wanted things to go back the way they were, back when they had come together to take out Cove. He’d been so incredibly warm then, accomplished, happy, and with three friends who had supported him and cared.

Now, things felt…broken. Yes, Raulin had apologized, Anla seemed to accept it, but Al only wondered when it would happen again. And he hated seeing Anla so hurt.

He sighed and sat next to Telbarisk. “Should I forgive Raulin and forget?”

Tel turned to face him. “Those are two very different things.”

“Well, forgive him, then.”

“Do you feel he’s wronged you?”

Al thought about this for a moment. “I want to say ‘no’, but it’s ‘yes’. I set down a law. He agreed to it. He broke that law. He should be punished. The person it concerns doesn’t seem that bothered by it. I think that I may be upset because he crossed my line.”

“Do you think he understands that?”

“I can tell he’s been trying to make peace with me.”

“Perhaps you should talk with him about what you told me.”

Which was a good idea, Al thought, until he tried. But, Raulin was suddenly irritable, constantly squeezing his fists and pounding them into the loamy soil. He paced and muttered under his breath. Neither Anla nor Tel commented on this, preferring to stare into the fire.

Something had happened that day, but Al couldn’t figure it out. So, he left Raulin alone, wondering why no one was talking about it. Anla kept staring at Raulin, looking away when he turned. Raulin kept swearing under his breath. Telbarisk remained neutral. There was a time when they spoke to each other about these things. Some quick admonishment or teasing would get them through this. Now, it was as if they didn’t even know each other.

Al could fix this. It was him, after all, that people were waiting on. So, he tried engaging in conversation with Raulin a few times, but his terrible mood persisted into the next day. They all ate their meals in sullen silence, taking to the road again in haste. The trirec continued to ball his fists and swear under his breath.

Without any camaraderie, there wasn’t a need to linger after breakfast. Al finished his exercises, ate quickly, and helped pack up. They went back to the road.

Anla eventually moved next to Raulin, getting his attention.

“What?” he snapped, and she moved back. He took in a slow breath. “Sorry. What?”

“Maybe you can talk to Al about healing your forehead. It seems bad.”

“Like he’d do that.”

Anla turned to address everyone. “Let’s break for lunch.”

“We’ve only been walking for an hour,” Raulin growled.

“It’s fine,” she said and moved off the road. Raulin sighed and followed her.

They put down their packs and sat facing each other until Raulin stood and stomped off into the woods. “Al, could you please heal him?” Anla asked.

Al’s eyes narrowed. “He’s hurt? Is that why he’s in a bad mood?”

“He has a cut on his forehead that’s bothering him quite a bit.”

“That means he has to take off his mask. And we know he won’t do that around me.”

“If he says ‘yes’, will you, please? For me, then. I’ll owe you a favor.”

“What do you mean ‘for you’?” His eyebrows knitted together and then it dawned on him. “Wait, are you two…intimate?”

She smoothed out her skirts. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but yes.”

“Okay. That’s…disappointing, seeing as how he was an utter ass to you.”

“I know that. I know what I’m doing, I hope. Please?”

He sighed and threw up his arms. “Fine.”

Raulin returned a few minutes later. “I can’t deal with this anymore. Wizard, I know you don’t care much for me right now, but will you heal this damned gash?”

He twisted his mouth to the side. Anla had forgiven Raulin. Tel didn’t seem to have a problem with him. It was time to admit that the insult needed to pass and that they could move forward. “Fine,” he said, pulling his pack in front of him. “I need to see how your skin is knitting, so that means you have to take off your mask.”

“Whatever will make this stop. It’s worth the risk,” he mumbled.

Al stopped and looked at him. “What risk, though? Do you think that after all this time I’d turn you in?”

“Well, you’re not exactly happy with me right now.”

“No, but that wouldn’t be justified. Look, I know that you know that what you’re doing is wrong. You don’t enjoy it. You’ve shown me that over the last year. You picked helpful contracts when you could. You don’t take pride in killing or stealing. When you can do good, you do it and you are pleased to do it. I think that’s the biggest point I’m trying to make: you have taken a bad situation that you have little control over and distilled whatever good was possible and did it. You are a force, but you’re also a man, and no man is perfect, not even I.”

Pleased smiles grew on Anla and Tel’s faces. Raulin said, “Well, I guess I couldn’t ask for a better guarantee. Thank you, Wizard.”

Raulin wiggled off his mask and set it aside, giving Al a curious look. Al laughed. “Why does everyone laugh at me when I do this?” he said with a scoff.

“In the beginning, you always told me how ugly you were. Ritualistic scarring, broken nose, pockmarked. I knew that wasn’t the case, since your skin from your nose down was clear, but I didn’t think you’d be comely. It’s funny to me. And also, I probably wouldn’t have taken orders from someone who looked so boyish, so maybe that was a good call.”

Anla began giggling, hiding it as well as she could behind her hand.

“For what it’s worth, you made the right call. I can see that your cut is infected. Without treatment, you might have gotten a fever or worse. Tel? Can you get that salve we got from Mount Kalista?”

Raulin laid his head down on Al’s pack. “Anla,” Al asked, “can you get a clean cloth and wet it with fresh water?”

She handed him what he needed and he gently wiped away the crusted blood and pus from the wound. He dabbed the salve over it, then placed his hand on Raulin’s forearm. Raulin immediately took in a deep, ragged breath and closed his eyes.

The angry pink skin around the gash began to reduce in minutes and the cut scabbed over. That was a bit faster than Al was expecting, but not atypical for Raulin. It was also appreciated. Healing wasn’t a fast process and anything that reduced the time was relieving.

Still, even though it was insisted by Amandorlam that you paid attention to your clients and be present with them, Al’s mind wandered. He checked the cut occasionally, but in between he noticed that something was nagging at him. He had that egg shell in the whites feeling, like being called on in school and not knowing the answer, even though he knew the material. What was it? he asked himself, looking around. Were they in a familiar place? Was there some sort of danger lurking nearby?

No, he realized, looking again at Raulin’s face. He looked familiar.

Maybe he had seen him somewhere without his mask. That must be it, he thought, but he couldn’t think of a single time when he might have seen him, not even with Anla. He was waiting for that click to happen in his mind.

He looked up again. The wound was healing nicely. Raulin lifted his hand to itch it and Al caught his wrist. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine, just don’t touch it. Your skin is fragile right now.”

Raulin had a beauty mark under his left eye and an old wound next to his right. Those were fine. The chin scar didn’t fit, he decided. “When did you get this?” he asked, flicking his fingernail over it.

“When I was at Arvarikor.”

“Won’t be able to heal it, then.”

“S’okay. It’s old.”

So, this familiarity Al had was when Raulin was younger. Impossible. Raulin grew up in Noh Amair and Al didn’t think he was lying about that. There was no way for Al to have seen Raulin as a child. But, there was a partial click. That was a satisfying answer, so he explored it a little further.

Something dark and still. He pictured Raulin’s face as something softer, his eyes staring right at Al. His hair was cut short and lighter, blond. He began filling in some details. This boy was about nine and was dressed far more seriously than he should have been, in some fitted, elaborate uniform. His hand was resting on the shoulder of someone…

Ah, a portrait! But, why would he have seen Raulin’s portrait? And who else was in that painting?

Then, in a flash, he saw the whole thing. Raulin’s arm resting softly on the shoulder of his beautiful mother, who was seated with her hands in her lap, her blond hair curled, her neck adorned with gold and jewels. He remembered staring at the deep blue and green of the cabochons, wondering how the painter had captured them so perfectly. At her knee were two younger girls, Raulin’s sisters, one blond like him and the other with dark brown hair, both in frilly, ribboned dresses. To his mother’s right stood her husband and Raulin’s older brother, both severe with black hair and dark eyes.

And atop his parents’ heads sat crowns.

Al’s body felt both hot and cold at the same time. His hand shook. He felt his lip quiver as he scurried away, a wave of nausea and faintness taking over.

“Thank you, Wizard. I feel a lot better now that…” Raulin opened his eyes and saw Al. And while Al’s mind kept saying, no, it can’t be, this is not real, this isn’t happening, the look on Raulin’s face sealed his conclusion. Raulin wasn’t confused or annoyed or amused by Al’s reaction.

He was scared.

“Wizard, wait…” he began, reaching out to assure him.

Al stood, feeling like he was about to vomit ice water. And, as he had always said he would, he clasped his left shoulder, bowed at the waist, and said, “Your Majesty, I’m yours.”