The Trial of the Ghost

Chapter 10: After the Sun Falls

Kra was unsure how she’d let herself get talked into this. She’d been arguing with Los, as the Ghost, about the weapons. She’d told him she’d take pictures that night while on patrol of whatever weapons she stumbled across. He’d then started to argue that she wouldn’t have time to save lives properly if she was distracted trying to get decent photos. She could let people die if she didn’t concentrate. Instead, he’d argued he’d do it.

So. Here she was, leaving him just outside the crime scene and letting him snap photos as she checked on the victims.

She hadn’t wanted him to come. She never wanted to put someone in danger when they didn’t have to be, but he’d pulled the ‘others could be in danger’ card and how could she refuse that? How could she refuse him wanting to help?

He’d said she would be trying to do too much, taking photos and helping, which Corla, the traitor, had piped up about.

She had been so engrossed in the argument, she hadn’t even noticed when Corla joined them. And when the two of them joined forces, she knew when a battle couldn’t be won.

“See anything?” Los quietly asked as they walked out of the small bank a gang had been holding up.

“They didn’t have magical weapons,” Kra replied. “Only Pale Knives and Desert Hawks do.”

“Have we seen any of them this evening?” Los asked.

“Not yet.”

Los groaned. “Why can’t they just… attack?” Kra shot him a look and given the wince, she assumed he felt the weight of it despite her hood. “Obviously I don't want anyone to die! But we need the information.”

“I know,” she conceded, “but do you know what I hope for every time the sun falls?”

Something mostly unreadable, but vaguely curious crossed Los’ face. “What?”

“I hope that I am not needed,” she admitted quietly. “I hope that, for once, people decide not to hurt others. For once, no one has to hurt someone’s livelihood to survive. That people’s greed doesn’t get the best of them.” She sighed. “It doesn’t happen, and sometimes I worry the day I dream of never will. But I watch the sun sink and hope all the same. And when I’m needed, I do my best to help everyone involved.”

Los stared at her and Kra listened, searching for her next mission.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Los’ arm.

Their next stop was a convenience store. A man was screaming at the cashier to give him all their money. He had a hand in his pocket, and Kra didn’t need her transparent vision to know he was only pretending to have a gun.

She left Los outside and walked in. “Excuse me?” she called. “May I help you sir?”

The man turned to her and then his face fell.

“Y-you.”

“Hello!” she said cheerfully, holding out a hand, the hand that would force him to stop pretending to have a gun if he shook it. “I’m the Ghost. I see you know what that means.”

“Please,” he begged, “please, do not hurt me. I… I lost my job. My kids are hungry. I… we have nothing. They… they need me. I’m all they have.”

“Sir,” Kra replied gently, holding out her hand instead. “I don’t want to hurt you. Why don’t you leave this nice person alone and we can talk a bit? Does that sound okay?”

“I… the police.”

“The police will never catch me, I promise.” She turned to the cashier. “Have you called them?” The cashier shook their head. “Are you alright?”

“Slightly traumatized, but not harmed,” the cashier replied dryly.

“Will you call the police?”

They shook their head again. “They never do anything.” They turned the would be robber. “You ever going to pull this shit again here?” The man shook his head. “Then we’re good.” They grinned and said in a false, shiny customer service voice, “Have a nice night!”

“Please, come with me,” Kra told the man. “I can help you.” He needed no more prompting. He followed her out of the store with his head hung and hands in his pockets like a normal person. She walked to Allelosin and nodded to the man. “He’s coming with us for now.” The man’s head jerked up and his eyes widened. Kra recognized the look: fear. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “This is a friend, who,” She turned to Los, “will not say anything to the police. Ever.”

“Nope, not me,” Los said quickly. His reassuring smile was not as good as Kra’s. “Not big on authority. Police. Government.”

“Right.” The man clearly didn’t believe him.

Kra put a hand on each of their shoulders and then took off into the sky at superspeed. There, she scanned for an empty rooftop and once she gently set the two men down on it, she dropped out of superspeed and flew over a few feet as the man screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he yelled. He turned to Allelosin, who just inspected his nails. “How… how are you not freaking out?”

“You get used to it after a while,” Los said, grinning at him.

“Please,” Kra interjected before it could get out of hand, “sit. Both of you.” So there they were, sitting down on a rooftop, Kra included. “Please, sir, what’s your name?”

“I’m Vystne,” he said carefully.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Vystne. I’m the Ghost.” She gestured to Allelosin to introduce himself.

He waved awkwardly. “Hi. I’m Los.”

“Please don’t mind him,” she said. “He’s tagging along tonight because-”

“I’m insane,” Los offered.

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” She frowned.

Los shrugged. “You were thinking it.”

“I was not and you know that.” She turned back to Vystne, “Again, please ignore him. You mentioned you have kids? Would you be okay telling me about them?”

“I…. No police?”

“No police,” she promised.

“I… I have a son and a daughter. They… they’re just kids. Their other parent… My spouse. They left us a few years ago. Just disappeared with no note but some of their things gone. I’ve been caring for them as best I can ever since. They’re so sweet, they deserve the world, and so smart, but I couldn’t keep up with the bills. Or the rent going up.” He teared up. “We’re on the streets and I can’t afford food. I… I have no family and my partner’s family disowned them when they married me. Delanim and Ro’an, I… I can’t lose them. I can’t.” He was fully crying now. “I don’t know what to do.”

Kra reached out and pulled him into a hug. She let him cry on her shoulder. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I should get them, Delanim and Ro’an, right? They should be with you. I can help. I know how to help, I promise. Please, let me help.”

He nodded, and five minutes later, she had the one family picture he still had in her hand. She soared over the city. It was easy to find the kids. They were huddled together, shivering, for warmth.

When she landed, they sprung to their feet immediately. The boy threw himself over his sister and glared up at her.

“You’re taking her, you take me,” he declared. Behind him, the girl nodded, her hands curling into fists.

“Okay,” Kra said gently, raising her hands up, her palms to them, hoping they would be assured, even slightly, “I don’t know what you think, but you’re not in trouble. You’re Ro’an and Delanim, right?” They said nothing, just continued to scowl and gave no indication they knew those names. Smart kids. “I’m here to take you to your father.” Kra held out the picture. “He gave this to me, so I’d know who you are.”

For a moment, she stood completely still, waiting for them to make the next move. The girl’s curiosity got the better of her. She sprung out from behind her brother and snatched up the photo. She only needed a moment examining it until her eyes returned to Kra, wide in amazement.

“Del no!” the boy, Ro’an then, exclaimed, dragging her back behind him. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s dad’s,” Delanim insisted. “Look.”

She shoved the photo under Ro’an’s nose. He pushed it away. “That means nothing!” He pointed behind them, then continued in hushed tones, “That’s the Ghost. She catches criminals, which means she probably got dad and turned him in. The police have him, took the photo, and now she’s come to get us so the police can put us in the foster care system.”

“But dad would never let this photo go willingly,” Delanim persisted. “There isn’t even a tear.”

“Maybe he was knocked out! We can’t trust her.”

“Ro-”

“No!”

“I did catch your father,” Kra said slowly, returning the children’s attention to her. She thought over every word. “But he’s not with the police. The store’s cashier didn’t care to press charges. I am helping him. I know people who can help you all, together, as a family. You won’t be separated from him. I swear. I’m only here to take you to your father.”

“See!” Del exclaimed.

“She could be lying,” Ro’an insisted.

Still, Delanim turned to Kra. “I will go with you.”

Ro’an grabbed her, “No you won’t!” but she shook him off and approached Kra. “Del, don’t!”

“How fast can you fly?” Delamin asked.

“I’ve never timed it,” Kra admitted. “Do you want to be carried, or do you want to go on my back?”

“Back!” Delamin turned to her brother and grinned knowingly. “You coming or am I going alone?”

He rolled his eyes and marched over as Kra knelt so Del could climb on.

“Of course I won’t let you go alone,” he insisted.

“Ha!”

“But if this is a trap,” he continued, “I will never let you forget it.”

Delamin beamed. “And when I’m right, I will never let you forget it.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to carry you,” Kra told Ro’an. “Is that alright?”

He rolled his eyes again. “Whatever. Let’s just get this bad idea over with.”

Kra scooped the boy up into her arms and they were off. She didn’t fly at superspeed. Del’s whoops of joy and Ro’an’s barely suppressed grin as they cut through the sky, dodging buildings warmed Kra’s heart. They landed. She set Ro’an down from her arms and Delanim jumped down from off her back.

“I want to do it again!” Del proclaimed.

“Maybe some other time,” Kra replied mildly. “That is,” She nodded at Vystne, “if your father allows it.”

Their eyes followed her nod and widened. Not even a second later, they barreled toward him until he scooped them up into his arms, squeezing them tightly.

Kra smiled under her hood and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Los smiling too. It wasn’t pure joy like hers, but there was an element of pain to it. Like it warmed his heart, but reminded him of something he didn’t have.

He had a sister and mother who loved him dearly, she knew that. What was that look for?

She put it out of her head as she stepped towards the family and explained her plan. She knew a few shelters associated with the nonprofit, Ferihjen’s Helpers. Their mission was partnering with shelters, local businesses, and real estate agents to get people off the streets and into work and new homes. They were committed to Ferihjenism’s central tenet: everyone has a bad day and makes mistakes, even Ferihjen, so when that happens, they need understanding, not criticism.

Kra was rather fond of Ferihjenism, even though it wasn’t her own religion. Their religious services, which included venting sessions and therapeutic collective screaming and smashing things, seemed like a healthier outlet than bottling up emotions.

Vystne had never heard of them at which Kra wasn’t surprised. They’d started in Thoghal but had branched into Emlytos within the last few years. He didn’t need much convincing to go to one of the affiliated shelters. She’d felt Los’ eyes on her as she’d explained and wondered what that look was for.

It didn’t matter. She’d instructed the children to stay on the rooftop and she’d flown Vystne with Los over to the nearest shelter.

“Help him,” she’d instructed Los. “I’m going back for the kids.”

A split second later, she was back with them and flying them to their father at normal speed, answering every question that came to their mind to the best of her ability while still preserving her secret. She even got questions from Ro’an, even if they weren’t as enthusiastic as Delanim’s. He was warming up to her; it brought a smile to her face. When they landed, she was telling the story of the gangsters she’d left on a zoo rooftop and the three of them were cackling.

“Go,” Vystne told her, clinging Delanim and Ro’an close to him as the receptionist took down notes. “I’m sure there are other people who need help.”

“Are you sure?” Kra asked.

Vystne nodded with a confident smile. He gestured to the shelter around them. “I think I’ll be okay from here.”

“Good luck,” Kra told him.

“Say goodbye kids,” Vystne told them.

Delanim and, to her surprise, Ro’an ran to her, hugging her tight, vowing they’d never forget. She hugged them back.

“I’ll miss you two,” she whispered to the tops of their heads.

She wasn’t lying. She never lied about this. She scanned the shelter for a second, looking to see if there was anyone she’d guided here, but they were good at their job and had growing contacts every day. There was no one still here she knew. It brought her equal parts sadness and joy.

She squeezed the kids one last time and nodded to the receptionist, who nodded and smiled back. With a final wave, she turned to the door and Los trailed after her.

“I see what you mean,” he muttered. “That was worth it.”

Kra smiled under her hood, her eyes watering. Meaning it with every fiber of her being, she replied, “It always is.”

“Does anyone still do stories on Ferihjen’s Helpers?” Los wondered and Kra knew he meant it rhetorically. She recognized the tone. “They’re doing so much good work and I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of them. I should talk to Buiyikyuk to see if Kra and I could do a story.” Los got a far off look on his face and smiled. “This is precisely the kind of story she’d love to write.”

Kra smiled. “I’m sure. Your partner seems like the kind of person who’d appreciate this work.”

“Who runs it?” he wondered out loud. “Maybe we could get an interview.”

“Not possible,” Kra informed him. “They do not give interviews. They have a spokesperson who talks to the press, but they don’t want to be taken away from their work. They’ve said they want the charity to stand on its own without their name always being attached to it.”

“Well, there goes that idea.”

Kra knew the whole story, knew exactly why they kept away from reporters. Ferihjen’s Helpers’ founder wasn’t its true founder. They were a figurehead, given the idea and the money by someone who didn’t want the charity to only be a famous name. Privately, Cebrua had admitted to Kra that she’d given Ferihjen’s Helpers’ founder pointers on who to talk to in Thoghal when they’d started. When the founder had looked to expand into Emlytos, Kra had met her, Nilkwoyvera Kasregirei, as the Ghost. She’d agreed to spread the message to anyone who might be interested in partnering.

No one knew, especially not the press, but it had been one of the best decisions of her life. To this day, Nilkwoyvera Kasregirei remained the anonymous founder of Ferihjen’s Helpers and publicly worked in their fundraising department, using her connections to stir up interest in the socialite circles. No one knew that the billions she’d been set to inherit had mostly been spent.

Nilkwoyvera’s father had hushed it up. For all anyone knew, her job with the charity was just that… charity. Not something she needed to do, but something she chose to do out of the goodness of her heart.

It was one secret Kra was very proud to keep.

Kra stopped, just outside the shelter doors and glanced to the direction of the gunshots. “Gang activity. Pale Knives. We just found what we’ve been looking for, Mr. La’dyliap.”

Kra grabbed his arm and supersped to the crime scene.

It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. And, not to be outdone, the Desert Hawks also decided to cause trouble that night an hour later on the other side of the city.

They both used magical weapons, so Los got the photos.

“No way,” Los objected.

“Yes way,” Kra replied, knowing she could be just as stubborn if she tried. “You have the photos, I’m taking you back so Ms. Anvislu can analyze them before she goes to bed.” Under her hood, she smirked. “She’s already agreed.”

Los shot her a withering look. “You’re ganging up on me.”

“You did the same to me earlier,” Kra pointed out. “Are you sure you’re not being hypocritical here?”

“I just never expect that from you,” he countered. His barrows furrowed and his arms crossed. “You have a petty streak, don’t you?”

“I will bring you back if there is more activity from the Pale Knives or Desert Hawks, okay? For now, we have the data we need. We should start looking at these before the night is up.” She sighed. “Are you going to keep fighting with me or can I take you home now?”

“You avoided the question.”

“So did you,” she replied evenly, earning yet another glare. She did not care. She kept her eyes on his, even though he couldn’t see them, and waited. Eventually, Los nodded. She beamed. “Great!” Los rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm. “Let’s go.”

The next thing Los knew, he was standing in Corla’s room and his hand instinctively went to his eyes. The multiple computers she had running were set to blinding.

“Astrakael, Corla,” he said, blinking until his eyes adjusted. “Are you trying to mimic the sun?”

“Oh please,” she replied flippantly, yanking his phone out of his hand and beginning to plug it in, “I don’t get my vitamin D from my screens.”

“Then how?” he asked, wincing as her program solved his password in five seconds. He would have to change his pin.

“Supplements,” she replied cheerily, opening his gallery and uploading the photos from that night. “Now,” A wide, slightly manic smile spread across her face, “let’s see what we’ve got here.” She gestured to the edge of her bed. “Sit. I don’t think we’ll be here for a long time, but you’ve likely been standing all night.”

None of what she said was false, so Losin slipped off his shoes and sat down, watching as she started putting each picture through a program and examined the sections it flagged. For her part, Corla was wishing they had some kind of device that could have recorded the surface texture of the weapons or created a 3D model of some kind.

She and Kra certainly didn’t have that kind of technology. Maybe Cebrua did? It seemed like the kind of thing Cebrua would have.

Corla sighed. Cebrua had all the cool toys. It wasn’t fair.

She stilled, her hand about to click on her note feature and type a reminder to ask Cebrua about it.

But Losin was there. She couldn’t. She’d have to remember this for later.

She relaxed her arm, and prayed to the Spirit she hadn’t done anything to make Allelosin suspicious.

She glanced over her shoulder and almost laughed with relief. The nosy reporter in question was busy picking grime out from under his nails.

Corla returned to her program and examined the pictures. An hour later, she called Losin over, five separate photos on display across her screens.

“What do you see?” she asked.

“Um….” Los squinted. “Metal? Weapons? I don’t know-”

“This,” she interrupted, pulling up a gun diagram she’d found on the internet, “is where a serial number would normally be. Do you see any serial numbers?”

“No.”

Corla beamed. “Exactly. Now, I’ve zoomed as closely as your photos will allow and I can’t find any trace of serial numbers being scratched off. In fact, I’d be willing to bet good money that the Ghost would confirm it.”

“I’m not taking that bet.”

“Hmphf. You have too much respect for my skills. Where is your typical male… pride? Arrogance?”

Los raised an eyebrow. “My mom made sure I got rid of that as a teenager. What do you think this means?”

“Well,” Corla said in her most sage voice, “if we can’t find any trace of a serial number ever being there, odds are good that these were either deliberately manufactured without them or stolen before they could get a number. If the first, someone is knowingly selling unmarked weapons to gangs. And I’m pretty sure these are the exact same kind of gun, so same manufacturer selling to both. That’s bad news.”

“And the second?”

“If it’s the second, then someone is telling the gangs exactly how to get into the same company’s factories to steal unnumbered weapons. That is also bad news.”

Allelosin glanced at the ceiling. “I hate my life.”

“So do I.”

“Which do you think it is?”

Corla sighed and reclined in her chair. “Loaded question, my friend. If it’s the second, it might just be one person up to some shady shit. Could be someone not powerful, just trying to make some money. We can easily deal with that. But the first? That’s a powerful person with minions and influence. That’s… harder. That’s usually who the Ghost goes to you to deal with. And if you can’t… well, we’re pretty fucked. I hope it’s the second.”

“So it’s probably the first?”

“Yeah probably.”

“I double hate my life.”

Corla nodded. “Same. You pathists have a goddess you blame for this?”

“Goddess? No. Absolutely not. The demons though, we’d likely blame them."

Corla nodded again. Angels who had rejected the gods for What Is Nameless and now served his quest to return the universe to the quiet that had existed before the gods and he’d been the only thing in existence. They did that through the corruption of souls so they didn’t go to the Godrealm until they eventually had enough souls to overwhelm the Godrealm and the shield it had around Kyp and destroy them both.

“Who do you Rylgists blame?” Los asked.

“We don’t really have anyone in particular to blame for little stuff like this. When Appefik, Seof, and Zapyr, the three gods trying to destroy Kyp, actually notice us, they do major stuff like natural disasters. Not individual people causing trouble. That’s all on us. But, the Spirit and Ghosts do pay attention. They help bring justice here so our world is peaceful enough to not attract the Three’s notice.”

“Ghosts? Seriously?”

“Hey, I don’t think she chose her name. That just… happened. Papers picked up on it, if I’m remembering, after they interviewed a Rylygist that actually saw her. She wasn’t visible in those early days. Like, at all. Remember?” Los nodded, he did. “So when the woman saw her, it was a big deal and she was religious so she insisted that who saved her was one of the Ghosts and it stuck.”

“Interesting way to get a name,” Los commented.

Corla just shrugged. “It’s a thing, it happened. Not much she can do about it now as it’s all anyone knows to call her.”

“She could tell us her name. Her real one.”

“And invite everyone to pry into her private life?” Corla scoffed to hide the worry and her tensing limbs. Please, Losin, don’t press this. Don’t prove Kra wrong. “Please. Don’t do that to her. She does so much, she deserves a little peace.”

Los chuckled. “Yeah. She does.”

Corla hid her sigh of relief, but her entire body relaxed again.

Allelosin closed his eyes while they waited, tearing open them again the moment the Ghost returned and informed them she had seen no microscopic scratches on those areas.

But bad news was bad news and Los dealt with it every day. He'd find a way to move past his frustration and get to work. It would be harder since they’d agreed the next step was waiting for Corla to hack into the gangster’s computers and that was going to take more time than he’d like, but he’d live.

He’d live and whatever was behind all this, he’d find it and stop it.

Just like he’d bring down his father. And Thuelar.

When Los walked into Buiyikyuk’s office, determined to persuade him to have them do a story on Ferihjen’s Helpers, he wondered if maybe, he was trying to do too much.

Whatever, he thought as Kra followed him inside. It has to get done. Might as well do it.

In the back of his head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kra and his mother whispered that wasn’t healthy.

He ignored both of them.

It was beneath her (absolutely, without a doubt), but whenever her twin asked her to find out Nilkwoyvera’s favorite anything or to go make an excuse as to why he couldn’t come over, she just did it, no questions asked.

Zrayt knew she was going to What Is Nameless when she died, but that didn’t matter when she saw her friend tucking a lock of her long, silky black hair back behind her ear and grin at her as she opened the door, those deep brown eyes of hers lighting up with excitement.

Friends. She hoped that was what they were. Sometimes, Zrayt thought she saw her brother’s girlfriend more than he did, so she certainly hoped they were friends.

It would be awkward if they weren’t.

She stepped into Kwoy’s apartment. The girl in question was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, both of which were covered in every color of paint under the sun. She’d even gotten some dark green on her face.

It had been something Zrayt had loved discovering. In public, Kwoy was much more appearance oriented and behind closed doors, any class fell away to reveal a very different young woman.

Zrayt felt a kinship. She’d been quick to judge Nilkwoyvera’s vanity and had never considered that in public, Kwoy had to be the glamorous entertainment heir, much like Zrayt always had to represent her father with her own appearance.

They were girls with expectations. They had to impress. Their fathers expected nothing less than that, than perfection.

The real Nilkwoyvera? The girl under the mask laughed loudly and loved fiercely. Zrayt couldn’t help but respect her. Want to know her better.

Feel gravitated towards her.

“It’s great to see you,” Kwoy said, closing the door. “How are you doing?”

“A little tired,” Zraytena replied. “Dad is driving me up the wall.” For details about Rox and Kwoy’s blossoming relationship, but she didn’t need to know that. “But, you know, what else is new?”

Kwoy laughed. Zrayt smiled at the sight for what a sight to behold was Nilkwoyvera Kasregirei’s laugh. She laughed with everything she had in her, as she did everything else. She threw her head back and her body bent a little back then forward as her hand went to her heart.

“What else indeed,” she agreed. She straightened up and her eyes lit again. “I’m working on a new painting, I think you’ll like this one!”

If when Kwoy grabbed Zrayt’s hand she got paint on it, Zraytena didn’t notice or care. All that went through her head was a brief wonder of what would happen if she pulled her friend in and kissed her.

What? Where did that come from?

She had no idea and before she knew it, she was in front of a canvas. Zrayt gasped, her free hand–for Nilkwoyvera hadn’t yet released her left hand–went to her mouth.

Zrayt was on that canvas. Her long blonde hair and sky blue eyes were captured in brush strokes and paint. Those were her facial features, defined cheekbones, thin tips, and turned up nose.

The portrait was just of her shoulder up. The painted Zraytena looked at something in the top corner, her hair flowing as if she’d been caught in the act of turning. She looked happy. Light shone down on her, turning her hair into sunlight, and she wore a crown of lilies. Red lilies, purple lilies, pink lilies. The background was abstract, no where in particular, just shades of green that started pale and got darker the farther away from her they went.

“I… Kwoy….”

“It’s how I see you,” the other girl whispered, squeezing her hand.

Beautiful, ethereal, joyful.

Zrayt turned to the girl. “Thank you.”

Kwoy smiled softly and, again, Zrayt wondered what it would be like to kiss her. “I’m grateful you’ve come into my life.”

There was a lovely tenderness in her tone, eyes. Would her lips be as tender?

“I’m glad too,” Zrayt whispered. She turned back to the painting. “You’re really talented. Have you ever considered being an artist?”

“I just paint to destress,” Kwoy said. “It’s… it’s not a career.” Somehow, she spoke the next words with even more sadness than what was on her face. “Not one my father would let me have.”

Rox had wanted to know what to get his girlfriend (his girlfriend, Zrayt really needed to get these thoughts under control, where had they come from) for her birthday. She’d known Kwoy loved painting, but not how much she mourned it could only be a hobby. Rox getting her paints, the symbol that her joy was safe with him, yes that would definitely earn him a kiss. Zrayt somewhat bitterly hoped he’d enjoy it. Cherish it.

What the fuck was wrong with her? This was her brother’s girlfriend. Her twin brother. And… since when did she want to kiss girls?

When did that happen? Was it new? Had it always been there?

And why did it have to happen now? Why did it have to happen with such a kind, lovely, energetic, smart girl who was already spoken for?

Finally, Zrayt took her hand out of Kwoy’s. She missed how the other girl’s smile thinned.

“Do you want some tea?” Nilkwoyvera offered, lacing her voice with surety.

Nilkwoyvera played to a crowd all the time. Granted, she usually had the amour of a stunning dress and even more blinding jewelry to throw them off, but she could do this. She was not going to look into why it hurt when Zrayt let go of her hand. She was dating Zraytena’s brother, the heir, as her father insisted as she was practically broke (although how he considered a million in stock specifically chosen for its growth potential broke, she had no idea). And if she ended up married to Rox, at least she’d get some of his money in it and that meant more money for Ferihjen’s Helpers.

She’d live with that.

She’d be happy with that. It wasn’t as if Rox was unattractive.

“Yes, of course,” Zrayt replied. “Peppermint?”

It was just that his sister was more. And if she was going to date a Thuelar sibling-

Kwoy smiled as best she could. “Obviously.”

It didn’t do to dwell on it too much. She was dating Rox. That was that. Even if, by some miracle, Zrayt was interested in her, she wasn’t available. She was dating Zrayt’s twin brother, Ferihjen help her.

She led Zraytena to the kitchen and brought out tea fixings. This dance was easier with her armour. She felt oddly naked in her painting clothes. She had no makeup, no jewels, no fancy dresses, just her face to mask her feelings. It wasn’t normal. She was supposed to hide in these clothes. These were supposed to be the clothes that she wore when all masks dropped away.

Damn you, Zrayt. “Would you like honey?”

Why did she keep having to come over on behalf of her brother? Why did Kwoy not feel betrayed that was the main reason she saw her?

She knew why. Damn her she knew why and she didn’t really care as long as she got to see Zrayt and keep being her friend.

“Yes, please."

Astrakael save me, why do you have me falling for you?