The entrance to the Pearly Falls was an underwhelming and puzzling sight. Squeezed between sprawling sandstone manors, and smothered by copious amounts of steam billowing out of their every orifice, the tiny outhouse was often missed by first-time visitors. And, once they have spotted it by a double-take, those visitors would then proceed to scratch their heads in incredulity.

There was no way that humble shack would be able to host a hundred bathing pools, was there? A latrine, maybe.

Meya's own doubts ebbed away, however, once they have pushed the door and descended the narrow, torchlit staircase, which fell steeply into a spacious rock chamber, where masked Jaisian women stood welcoming them with wide smiles behind metal grilles.

Still, some fundamental questions remained: Where is the Pearly? And where is the Falls?

Once they had paid for their dip in the pools, Meya and her companions were ushered further into the underground complex. The catacombs, fortified by wooden scaffolding, twisted and turned and branched. Fire flickered from rusty sconces, illuminating yellow-brown and coal-black ledges of jagged shale and raw jet protruding from the walls. Their rough, layered texture reminded Meya of termite-plagued wood, but magnified.

At regular intervals, the walls had been hollowed out into caverns, and numbered doors were installed. Meya heard the moans and grunts of rigorous lovemaking leaking out from behind some as she passed, but they did nothing to arouse her desire. She couldn't imagine herself enjoying an hour of passion with Coris in this dank, drab, crumbling, suffocating, disused underground mine. Fyre, she wouldn't even think of taking an afternoon nap here; she preferred sunlight and open air to this precarious subterranean crypt.

Heloise and Frenix seemed just as unnerved by the foreign surroundings as her; Heloise huddled her shoulders and smoothed goosebumps up and down her arms; Frenix had fallen uncharacteristically silent, and there was always some twitchy footwork in his every other step.

Could this be a Greeneye thing? Dragons are huge creatures of flight, after all. Stands to reason they—we—would harbor an instinctive fear of being trapped underground.

The bathhouse lady left them in front Rooms 25 and 26 with directions to the pool, and the fellowship diverged according to their grouping in the entourage.

Meya filed inside after Arinel, Agnes and Gretella, and found herself in a spartan torchlit cavern with a walled latrine in the corner, a set of table and chairs, and a mattress with pillows and a woolen blanket.

The bathhouse lady had instructed them to wash up before heading to the pools. The latrine was large enough for two at a time, and Gretella and Agnes decided to go first.

Once the splashes of water had risen in earnest, Arinel threw her mask onto the mattress, snatched Meya's arm, then dragged her towards the furthest wall.

"Lady, what in the—"

"Shh!"

Pausing only to grab the blanket, Arinel nestled herself in the nook of the cave, pulled Meya down to her knees, then threw the blanket over their heads.

Solid darkness; in the dim orange light, the mask no longer functioned as well, and so Meya tugged it off. Seeing Arinel's silhouette and her eyes glinting in the gloom, she hissed in annoyance.

"Lady, what's with all this? Can't we talk in the open?"

Arinel ignored her question.

"That black gum drink," The Lady cut straight to the chase, sharp eyes boring into Meya's, "It's not just gum and sugar. I know that smell. There's laudanum in there."

Arinel's voice reeked of disgust as she practically spat out the word. Meya had heard the name before, of course, but she couldn't quite understand the animosity.

"Laudanum? So?" She raised a dismissive eyebrow, followed by a shrug, "Coris takes a few drops in his nightcap every day to help him sleep. What's wrong with it?"

Arinel seemed to have been cursed into stone, save for her bulging, blinking eyes. After a moment of silent mouthing, she reached out and grasped Meya's arm with trembling fingers.

"Am I hearing this right?" She gasped, before her voice rose into what could be described as a whispery scream, "Coris takes it daily?!"

"Yeah. Is that bad?" Meya eked out, bewildered yet with an unwitting smidge of dread. Arinel's nails was digging into her flesh, and she winced in pain as she soothingly ran her hand down Arinel's shivering arm.

Arinel's eyes seemed to be wriggling free of their stretched-to-burst sockets.

"Is that bad?!" She repeated so shrilly Meya felt her eardrums recoiling, then grasped both her shoulders and shook her like a rattle, "Meya, you have to stop him right away. It's very addictive. And his health would suffer!"

"What d'you mean, addictive?" Meya demanded, slightly exasperated. Arinel paused, then dragged in deep breaths, struggling back to her calm old self.

"It means, over time, he wouldn't be able to live without it." She explained in bouts of heaving sighs, staring deep into Meya's widening eyes,

"He would need more and more just to satisfy his thirst, until he takes enough of it that it kills him."

Kill him?

Coris?

For a fleeting moment, a wave of freezing dread, the kind she had only ever felt when her family was threatened, sped up Meya's limbs to smother her heart. Arinel's voice sounded tinny, as if echoing down from the pinhole mouth of the deep pit Meya was trapped in.

"The vendor probably sneaked some in there to make sure people keep coming back for more. You have to report this to Lady Jaise, so she could investigate."

Having shaken away the icy fingers of fear, Meya's pounding heart calmed. Taking deep breaths, she nodded.

"Right, I'll get Coris on it." She promised absently, eyes staring into space as her brain whirred. It wasn't that she didn't believe Arinel, but, once she had thought over it, she found it hard to believe that such a mundane cure could be that deadly.

After all, Coris generally knew best about everything. He knew what he was doing. If he wasn't bothered, why should she be?

Satisfied, Meya turned back to Arinel. The Lady was still panic-stricken, and Meya asked as much to mask her lack of disquiet as out of curiosity.

"So, how come you know it so well?"

Another bout of shivers overtook Arinel, and Meya gathered her into her arms to comfort her. The Lady's eyes stared ahead, wide and fearful.

"The healer who treated Agnes's burns had her take laudanum to ease her pain, but she never stopped." She whispered, her voice quivering, then she shook her head slowly, "It took me and Grandmother years to wean her off it. And it was harrowing."

Arinel shrank into Meya, her fingers twisting the fabric of Meya's tunic, as she squeezed her eyes shut at the horror of the memory,

"She went from rooting through the alchemist's stores to stealing my jewelry. When we cut her off all those, she went and nearly sold herself to the brothel." Arinel sobbed, and Meya held her close and rocked her gently as she wept,

"If Jerald hadn't been there in time..."

As Arinel huddled up against her chest, Meya patted her back consolingly, yet, she still wasn't exactly convinced, or concerned.

It was mind-boggling, the lengths Agnes went just to get her hands on some potion. Coris wouldn't ever be that out of control, would he? It was just a few drops to soothe his bowels, for Freda's sake! What harm could it do?

Not to mention he was much older now than Agnes when she was dealing with her burns, too. And his pain, though constant, wasn't as traumatic as hers. He'd be able to control himself, surely. She had little to worry about.

At long last, Arinel's silent sobs subsided into sniffles. She straightened up, dabbing at her watery eyes and giving Meya a squeeze of thanks with her free hand. Her expression was now hard and solemn.

"We can't let her fall back into it again." She vowed, blue eyes staring resolutely ahead, before snapping back to glare at Meya, who jolted as those cold fingers suddenly clamped around her arms once more,

"And you! Promise you'll get Coris off his laudanum, Meya. Promise me!"

Meya raised her hands in surrender as Arinel gave her another round of vigorous shaking. Still, she can't help arguing,

"He'll be fine, Lady. He doesn't have it that bad, I guess?" She suggested with a meek grin. She felt cold sweat beading up along her hairline at Arinel's death glare, but soldiered on regardless, "I mean, he only takes a few drops, and he's sleeping well, and he wakes up refreshed and happy."

"Well, why is he only getting ever thinner, then?" Arinel's lips stretched into a mirthless smirk, as her eyebrows rose up and tucked themselves away behind her fringe. Meya's fingers tingled with trepidation, as Arinel laid out the foreboding signs.

"Why is he always sleeping? What about his bowel movements? Is he passing regularly? Is he always nauseated or vomiting? How is he in bed? Is he having trouble satisfying you?"

"Well, y-yes, but..."

Meya stammered out as heated blood inundated her cheeks. Arinel had by now leaned so close, her glaring eyes seemed on the verge of swallowing Meya whole into those gaping black pupils.

For an excruciating moment of silence, they locked gazes. Finally, Arinel's expression softened, and her hands on Meya's arm loosened. She shook her head miserably,

"You can't let down your guard, Meya. Coris may be a prodigy, but he isn't infallible. And he might be trying to change, but he isn't fully free of his old ways. Not yet."

Arinel grasped Meya's shivering shoulders, as she forced herself to remind her often besotted friend of the harsh truth,

"He lies to everyone. Even himself. Zier had been writing to me in his place ever since we were betrothed. We've known him for a long time."

Meya's eyes widened and wavered in fear, then slid away in denial. Of course she'd find it hard to believe ill of him.

Arinel gripped her wiry shoulders tightly, hoping against hope that all this would turn out to be just her usual overreacting. That nothing disastrous would happen.

"All these could be because he's ill. But it could also be that laudanum is exaggerating them, and he's just passing it off as poor health." Arinel pointed out, then leaned closer, desperation spilling into her voice.

"You see him take a few drops before bed. You don't see if he takes more behind your back. And he certainly has the means to get as much as he needs, as well."

The Lady's eyes widened, demanding a response, yet Meya could only bite down hard on her wobbling lips. She had just made amends with Coris after his latest betrayal. And here was Arinel, expecting her to revert to the days of doubting and probing his every move again.

Her reunion with Coris had been such a whirlwind of raw emotion, such a maelstrom of peril and loss and watershed; it was difficult to believe it had been less than a fortnight since she had taken his hand and stepped down from that carriage. And just when they were settling down for some simple happiness—another setback?

She just wasn't ready. She didn't want to go back. Not to battle him. Not again. Not this soon.

Still Arinel was demanding. Still Meya was resisting. Then, out of the blue, both girls started and whirled back in unison; silence had swooped back into the room, the splashing of water had ceased. Gretella and Agnes would be back out any second to find the two of them huddled in a corner under a blanket.

Meya turned back to find Arinel still staring expectantly at her. Averting her gaze, she tugged the blanket off them, and reciprocated with a halfhearted promise.

"Alright. I'll talk to Coris when I get the chance."