The Sorcerer could not believe his luck.

Of all the times and places he would chance meeting her, it was going to be here and now. He had stared longer than he meant to, because it was simply that unexpected and he had to do a double-take to make sure it was really her. But there she entered, her long ripply hair let loose behind her, blowing back as the doors opened and slammed shut. She wore a dark maroon fur-coat and wide-legged black pants. She seemed to be in a better state than he last saw her in his Mirror, when her kohl streaked face hadn’t even been washed. Her makeup had been cleaned and redrawn, lips matching the color of her coat. All signs of depressed-induced fatigue were gone.

A stunning development. Sneaking around and about, twice in a few hours time! So she had a few daring bones in that thin body of hers after all.

“What is it, darling?” the drunk whore leaning on his shoulder cooed. “You were saying something?”

Had he been speaking? It didn’t really matter, because he didn’t care. Zara was heading to the tall counter, tailing behind her little brother.

Well, maybe not little. Younger was the more appropriate word here. Rowan was not little at all—he was a good head taller than his sister. And with them was another boy The Sorcerer recognized as Rowan’s longtime friend, Shia. They were the same height, though Shia’s skin was fair and blemish-free, with the hints of a light mustache starting to grow on his upper lip. His thick tawny hair lay smoothly down to his shoulders, and he glanced at the bar’s older female occupants with a grin that reeked of boyish inexperience.

Zara stood by them as they ordered their drinks, timid and wary, because it was so obvious that this was her first time here. The Sorcerer hid a smile. Have I seen you here before? Or is this your first time? What a great conversation starter that would be—once he got near enough to speak to her, of course.

He took a final gulp out of his mug, set it down on the round floor table in front of him, and leaned back on the cushions to get a better look at Zara as she fidgeted from one insecure step closer to Rowan, and then another step away again. She took off her coat, revealing a slender black top. The sleeves were just above her elbows; the length reached her knees. The square neckline had a golden-stitched design around it, the rest of the top was plain. She self-consciously pulled at the hem, her coat bundled in her other arm, looking like she didn’t know where she should sit.

Compared to those tall wooden stools at the counter, floor seating was best. Each table came with an array of cushions—a common setup for most drinking houses. The room was dimly lit by sconces. The wide hearth was at the farthest end, directly opposite the entrance, where The Sorcerer currently resided. The seats here were the warmest.

“Wey-vaaan,” the whore hiccuped. She giggled, tossing her hair over her bare shoulders. She eyed him with curved red lips, pressing her breasts against his arm. Her cheaply bejeweled blouse was slipping off at this point. The black kohl around her freakishly round eyes was already smudged and unappealing, and she reeked of tobacco and booze.

“Who?” he said impatiently. He glanced back to see Zara speaking to Rowan, her brows knitting together like he’d offended her. Rowan and his friend laughed before presenting her with a mug the barkeeper brought them. She wasn’t happy, but her face relaxed once she took a sip. He wondered what she had ordered.

“Hmm,” the whore groaned. He’d almost forgotten that she was still next to him.

More patrons walked in, sauntering around the counter, and now his view of Zara was annoyingly blocked.

“Weyva—,” the whore slurred. Her eyes were bloodshot, and he vaguely wondered what else she had been taking tonight besides alcohol.

“That’s not my name,” he said.

“Ya ya.” She smiled suggestively, and perhaps it was meant to look sweet and alluring but the gap in her yellowing teeth ruined it. “You were talking about…heading out?”

“I was?” There was no way he’d be leaving now.

She nodded. And then she kept nodding. And nodding. And nodding. And it was clear she had no idea where she was anymore.

“Excuse me,” he said, sliding off his cushion, leaving the whore to fall at the abandoned space.

A rough, portly man approached the table with two of his friends, laughing as The Sorcerer left the woman behind.

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“Mind if we take it from here, my friend?” the fat leader said, meeting him with a slimy grin. His fellows were already lifting her sluggish, half nude body off the seat. The blouse had slid down her breasts and dangled off her waist, barely held together by the laces behind her back.

“Ughh,” the whore moaned, her head lolling back and forth. She gagged, forcing back a retch.“I don fell good anymar, I don feel…” Whimpers led to tears, her playful nature from earlier stolen by substance-induced illness.

“By all means,” The Sorcerer replied flatly as he continued walking away. Whatever they chose to do with that sick nuisance, he didn’t particularly care.

He reached the counter just as those men carried the weeping, drooling whore outside, and ordered another glass of wine. He stayed at a distance, for now. All he had to do was wait for the brother and his friend to go away.

Meanwhile…it wouldn’t hurt to clue her in to him now, would it?

Zara swiveled her head around the bar with darting eyes, hit with a sudden sense of awareness. Confusion settled into her face, as she realized she had no idea of what she’d become aware of.

The Sorcerer had hinted his proximity with a small release of pheromones. He, in turn, could sense her fear and uncertainty of this strange, foreboding sensation.

Foreboding. The Sorcerer chuckled. That was quite the leap, but given Zara’s restless nature tonight, he supposed those emotions made sense.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Zara, just relax!” Rowan said.

Shia laughed when Zara took a large gulp from her mug and coughed.

“I’m fine,” she croaked. “I thought I felt something. But it was nothing…I guess.”

“I think you need something stronger,” Shia suggested.

“No thanks. And Rowan, don’t even think about overdoing it! We only brought one horse and we have to ride it back in one piece—”

“Yeah yeah, I don’t need a lecture. I’ve done this…how many times now?” He and Shia looked at each other, chuckling. “I think I know what I’m doing.”

“And if anything, I’m here if he does go overboard,” Shia added. “So stop worrying already.”

Zara flattened her lips. “Right, sorry.” She drank again.

“It’s good, right?” Shia said.

“Yes. It’s sweet,” Zara replied, managing a smile at him. “I didn’t even know a taste like this existed in wine.”

“See?” Rowan said. “What did I tell you? It’s all about taking chances. This place is great, huh?”

Zara glanced around, taking in the sights. Her gaze lingered on some of the more questionable looking men and skimpily-laced women.

“…It’s nice. Cozy,” she said.

“Did you want to have a seat over there?” Shia asked, pointing to the same space The Sorcerer (and the whore) had just left. “I bet it’ll be warmer than standing here by the door.”

As soon as she took a step toward that direction, she was interrupted by the entrance of a boisterous crowd of four. A crowd very familiar to Rowan, apparently.

“Eyyy!” Rowan yelled, slapping all of the open palms of his friends as they greeted him back in the same obnoxious manner that made The Sorcerer wish he could forcibly repel them out of earshot. Zara froze as everybody around her exchanged words without acknowledging her presence, even though she was smack in the middle of the group. She maneuvered out of the way once they broke into another pointless fit of laughter at a dumb joke to sit back at the counter. Alone.

She was now in his full line of sight.

Perfect.

Having felt another pull from him, Zara turned her head, and finally met his eyes. The leap in her heart indicated a form of recognition—and it was quickly followed with…shame?

Oh, she remembers.

They had seen each other only hours before after all, The Sorcerer having witnessed that humiliating display. He very slightly raised his drink to her, but she sat like a statue, clutching her mug. Just when he was about to shift over to a closer seat—

“So it is you!”

—someone got in his fucking way.

The young blonde woman stood with her back to him as she faced Zara—who stared back at her in startled shock.

“I knew it. I knew it had to be you, and I was all the way over there, too!” The woman laughed, pointing out the window seats where her friends were. “What a coincidence, right? Or maybe it’s luck? Fate? A small world, having run into one another for the second time today!”

“Cina?”

“I’m glad you remember me.” She laughed again.

The Sorcerer tried not to visibly slump in his stool. As agitating as this wait was going to be, he didn’t want to instill any more fear into Zara by overwhelming her with his Sense Magic. And using it on this Cina woman to get her out of the way would surely have them both running out the door, attracting all the wrong attention. He would just have to wait until they were done with their stupid talk. Maybe it wouldn’t even last long, if he considered Zara’s contempt for the girl and her cruel treatment of that Yohid boy.

But then Cina sat down and called the barkeeper, asking for whatever Zara was having. And Zara actually smiled back at her. She was a mix of emotions, ranging from discomfort of The Sorcerer’s close range, and relief at the familiar, friendly face engaging with her— acting as the perfect distraction from the creepy man who wouldn’t stop looking at her…

The Sorcerer turned away, scowling. Cina’s “friendly face” was the same face that made Zara wary. It was the same fucking face that hated people like them. Should this blonde know of Zara’s identity, it was all over from here. No more “friendly” chit-chats, no more giggles, no more useless “bonding” over drinks…

But of course, this face was a great convenience to Zara now, so she was happy to play along. And even now as they chatted, a part of Zara was hoping that, perhaps, she had misunderstood and maybe Cina wasn’t so bad after all…

The Sorcerer shut off his sensors and downed the rest of his glass. It was all so annoyingly human, serving as a bitter reminder of a past he wanted to erase.