“We need more information about what’s happening to your solute,” Camaz said. “Given your history, you absorbed something. Tell me what it is, the more we know the better we know how to keep it from killing you.”

Aris stared at her mentor, her guardian. Rather, she stared at his solute that didn’t waver or flicker even as he spoke to her. She knew Camaz knew many who could interact or observe solutes. Inner eye abilities were highly sought after for spies after all. She wondered if some of his ‘friends’ could see solutes the same way she could, then wondered how they could tell if someone was lying or being evasive. Since Camaz knew these people, has he developed some ability to hide himself even to those who can peer into his very solute?

“It’ll just be like last time. Is this so you can denounce me again?” she asked. “So you can tell me what a horrible person I am?”

“It’s so I can save your damn life.”

“And for what means?” she demanded, plowing through the pain to argue with him. “So you can use me to fulfill some destiny you know nothing about? I’ve already had that explained to me, Camaz. There’s a game being played where I’m a game piece.”

“Are you seriously arguing against me saving your life?” Camaz asked incredulously. “What is this nonsense about games?”

“I can’t… I can’t even choose when I live or die,” Aris said bitterly. “My life is a means to something. Even people I haven’t met before want me for something. I am here for reasons not my own, I have to live for someone else’s reason. I know you’re doing this for a reason. That’s all I am - all Ral and I are - ”

She tried to sit up but lurched to the side. Miserably, she clutched her aching head. Aris then rolled onto her back again and tried to will unconsciousness to take her again, pointedly ignoring Camaz. She needed the bliss of oblivion, maybe dreams of an innocent and carefree childhood. Instead she laid there at the mercy of pain until uneasy sleep punctuated with reluctant lucidity filled out her time. When Verne woke her again she automatically sat up in the position she usually does for her meals before she registered what she was doing. Briefly, she considered refusing to eat but then they would probably just force her.

The Sekrelli noble acted like nothing happened, except for asking if she was able to eat on her own and administering more of the bitter medicine than usual. As far as Aris could tell, it was to keep her nausea down. He handed her the bowl of soup, guiding her hand to the spoon in it.

“There’s water if you need it,” Verne added. She heard him sit down to eat his own portion. She ate a spoonful of savory soup, hesitating.

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“I’m sorry,” she finally said to him. She knew he was usually the one cleaning up after her.

“Professor Camaz should be the one you apologize to,” he replied. “He is frustrated with you.”

“He doesn’t deserve my apology,” Aris said, lifting her chin. The movement made her head hurt. She almost missed hearing Verne laugh again.

“You two argue like father-daughter,” he said, voice tinged with amusement. “You two are alike too. No offense.”

“Lots of people think we’re related,” Aris said. “But you know we’re not. How do you know?”

“Professor Camaz’s turncoat friend discussed it without discretion,” Verne said. “Told us you were the heir to Caelis.”

“Camaz’s turncoat friends know a lot,” Aris said dryly.

“So you’re not going to deny it?”

“I think I’m beyond hiding my identity at this point.” She pointed at her face, at the mass of rocky protrusions spilling out of her eye sockets. Over the past few days, she’s noticed it’s receded a little, like liquid settling into the two cavities where her eyeballs used to live. “I think people would be distracted by the mess that is my face.”

“Hmm if you’re no longer hiding your identity then I must ask… Have you been a tree at one point?”

The sudden question almost took her by surprise but she managed to control her expression. “A tree?”

“Yes.” Verne didn’t sound annoyed at all by her evasive answer. “A tree. A peculiar one that defecates buns onto handkerchiefs.”

“Defecate buns? What in Part’s name are you talking about?” Aris was quite proud of her feigned confusion; at the same time she was filled with satisfaction that he had remembered. And perhaps maybe just a little validated that he knew it was her.

“You don’t have to pretend. You were already well known for being able to evade detection on the island.” There was a rustle of fabric as if Verne shrugged or gestured. “I already knew a few months after.”

“I guess everyone knows of my hide and seek prowess, but I cannot turn into a tree,” Aris continued, purposely obtuse. “That’s not how my ability works.”

Verne gave a snort. “Fine, keep up your act. I have no more need for tree defecated buns, I buy them now. Steamer and I are best friends.”

Her mouth itched to smile. Something stopped her. She ate her soup and fought the nausea, drank her medicine and fought the disgust. Then she laid down again and resisted the temptation to talk to Verne again. She remembered how much fun it was to tease him the first time they met, but she also remembered the last time she felt comfortable with someone like that.

Tassik. Nari. Their baby. Aris let her pounding head take over her senses so she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts, certainly not of thoughts over her conversation with Camaz. No, speaking with Varne simply reminded her that everyone and everything wanted something from her. Kindness was merely the carrot at the end of the stick. How careless she was to fall for it again, with both Camaz and Verne.

Perhaps the only person in Gaia that would understand her was Ralos, but she didn’t even know if her brother was alive. Perhaps he died and now she was well and truly alone.