They had gone to sleep after that. Or more accurately, Lukios had gone to sleep after that, holding her tenderly but tightly, pressing her snugly against him beneath the blankets. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder so his every breath stirred the hair on her head, tickling her cheek and forehead.

Ba’an lay in his arms, thoughts turning and tumbling as she watched him in the dark, gently caressing him where her hand rested over his hip.

Lukios did not have another woman, and he wished to marry her.

The smile grew over her face with a life of its own. She could not stop it—nor did she wish to.

Lukios did not have another woman, and he wished to marry her.

She pressed her forehead against his chest, listening to his heart beating slow and steady as a drum. It was difficult to breathe through the lightness beneath her ribs, the heady joy of knowing he wanted her as his wife.

Ba’an had been wrong. He did not have another woman, and he did not wish her to be his concubine.

Wife.

She had never been happier to have been wrong about something.

Ba’an kissed him right over his heart, very softly. He stirred, but did not wake, and she smiled and did it again, gently stroking his belly and hip with the tips of her fingers. His skin was warm and soft, though she could feel the hard muscle beneath as his chest moved up and down, up and down with each breath. Everything smelled of him now, and she thought it better than anything; nothing from the kitchen could smell so enticing, and there was no flower in the desert or anywhere else that was sweeter.

She curled toward him, focusing on the sound of his heart beating beneath his ribs, the bright hum of his soul pulsing through her in time with a single word: Mine. Mine. Mine.

If they wed, he would be. She would be his, and he would be hers, and…

And…

It was impossible.

She closed her eyes, struggling to hold onto her joy, but it slipped away from her, as it always did when her good sense took over.

The same thoughts had been swirling for hours now, pushing her to the very heights of euphoria then back down again, deep down into a dark chasm of despair.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

She was exhausted now, but she could not stop.

If she wed him, they would be together until she died. They would lie together like this every night, warm and cozy, full of affection and contentment. Every night, and in the day they would smile and laugh together as they had in the desert, but better, because Synoros was full of water and trees, full of life.

And Ba’an would ruin it with her presence. She was a danger to anything that breathed, anything with a soul.

No, no. She could—she could fly out, couldn’t she? Just once a week, maybe less, even, if she managed to consume something large, like a wild strifa or a cliff-cat or…or…

Lies. She would have to tell him more lies. Continuously, every day—

Where’d you disappear to, sweetheart?

Ah, only the desert, my love. It is nothing! I have only been devouring souls. No need for alarm.

No.

How long before he noticed something was wrong with her? Lukios was not stupid. Eventually he would realize she was risking them both by transforming and flying away, only to come back without a word about where she’d gone or what she’d done. He would attempt to follow her, or he would press her, and then…

She shuddered, pushing her face against his chest and burrowing beneath the blanket.

Perhaps she would die before he discovered her trickery. Then he could…simply…mourn her and move on, perhaps marry a pretty Dolkoi’ri girl—

No.

The thought came hard and fast, full of fury.

No!

Ba’an tightened her grip on his hip, fingers digging into his skin as she clung to him.

She was being greedy. She knew this was only greed, ugly and naked, full of jealousy, but—

No. No. She could not bear it now, the thought of him forgetting her for someone young and pretty once she was gone. Even the barest suggestion of him looking at another the way he looked at Ba’an, eyes warm and tender as he touched her in the dark—

Unbearable. It was unbearable.

Lukios made a sleepy little noise and shifted, and she forced herself to loosen her grip. She had not meant to hurt him or disturb him; she smoothed her fingers over the spot where she had clutched him, making a low, soothing noise until he settled again.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

No, no. This was—this was all wrong. Something was wrong with her.

Ba’an swallowed thickly.

She really had gone mad. Being all alone in the desert with only the sun and sand, living like some wild animal instead of a witch or even a woman, had run her mad. Utterly mad.

But the thought of Lukios forgetting her—or even worse, rejecting her, his affection going sour—ah, ancestors. It was a knife in her throat. It made her lungs rattle when she breathed.

She would not be able to take it. She would not. She would—she would—

If she took him now, he would be hers. Forever.

With a sharp gasp of shock, she jerked away from him, hard enough so she tumbled off the edge of the bed. She landed badly on her back, the breath going from her lungs at the impact so she could not even cry out.

She lay on the ground, only managing a pathetic little wheeze. Lukios rose instantly, leaping off the bed before he was even fully awake. She could see the moment he came to himself, movement slowing as his head turned toward her, taking in the sight of her on the floor. When he spoke he sounded confused.

“Ba’an? You okay? What happened?” He looked around again, slower this time, taking in the empty corners, the shuttered window and closed doors. The tension bled slowly from his frame as he knelt beside her on the floor, reaching down to help her up. She noticed he was keeping himself between her and the window, as if someone really was about to leap out from the shadows.

Gods above and below. What had possessed her? Where had the thought even come from?

She forced herself to sit up before he could touch her, moving away. Lukios’ frown deepened. “Sweetheart?” Now he sounded uncertain as well as confused. Nervous.

“I—I had a bad dream.”

One more lie for the pyre.

“It is well.”

And another.

He reached out for her and she forced herself to still. Her skin was crawling with disgust—at herself.

But it would hurt him if she moved away again. Once was excusable—I was only disturbed, it is nothing—but twice? No. He would pry, or he would retreat, injured by her rejection.

“You don’t look so good.” He picked her up and carried her back to the bed, setting her down on the mattress before gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He was peering into her face, though she was certain it was too dark for him to see her expression. He reached up and touched her cheek with just the tips of his fingers.

Perhaps he could see her expression.

“Must’ve been some nightmare. Wait here. I’ll get you something to drink.” He stood and shifted off the bed, walking to the little stand against the wall. It was a stone stand half his height with a flat, circular top, and it held a washing bowl and a pitcher of water. Lukios made a little noise of consternation in his throat. “No cups. Right. I’ll be back.”

Ba’an opened her mouth to stop him, but then closed it again. No, it would be better if he left the room.

She could not trust herself with him now. Not now.

The back of her mouth tasted sour, like bile.

“Yes,” she said instead. “Thank you.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. Want a snack, too? Bet you’re hungry.”

“I—yes. That would…help. Thank you.”

She saw the white flash of his teeth in the dark. Smiling again. Good. He walked back to her and kissed her forehead. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Ba’an sat quietly on the bed, watching him dress then disappear into the servant’s passage. Once he was gone she wrapped the blanket around herself, trying to keep her belly from rioting.

Gods. Gods. How could she think such a thing? Where had the thought come from? What had possessed her to—

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha—

Every fiber of her being stilled as she listened. It was quiet at first, like the first ring of a distant bell as the hunters returned at dawn, but then it grew louder and louder until it was more like a drum, filling her head until it was pounding. It swelled like rolling thunder until it drowned out the sound of her own pulse, filling her with dread.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Haha. Hahah. Hahahahahahaha—!

It was Tik-tak Mal’uk.

And it was laughing.

The night air was cold, but Ba’an only pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and continued walking. The garden still smelled of water and dirt, blooming flowers and fresh rushes, but her racing heart refused to calm.

Still, she wandered through the green in the dark, feet loud on the cobblestones. There were no torches, but the moon and stars stained everything in a faint, silver glow; she could even see the water in the fountain glisten, as if the moon was just a colder, smaller sun.

The creature had gone silent inside her, but she could still feel its amusement at her terror. It felt slick and oily, heavy with malice; she felt ill all over again.

She had to do something about the thing, whatever it was.

Ba’an sat on the lip of the fountain, letting her fingers dip into the cool water. Its uncaring serenity was soothing in its own way, and she focused, centering herself around its rhythmic splashing and burbling. The chill of the water kept her alert.

She folded into herself, poking and prodding the cage she’d built around the not-spirit thing.

It was still caught. Utterly tangled in her weave, bound tight by her power.

Do not blame me for your own desires, abomination. I have been sitting here very quietly, trapped and wretched.

No. Tik-tak Mal’uk was a creature of lies and trickery, trickery and lies. Illusions.

But…

It was true. It was still held tight, with nowhere to go. It could curse at her, laugh at her, rail against its bonds—but it was still caught.

Ba’an swallowed, feeling even worse.

You have only yourself to blame, it mocked, Maho-ska.

Be silent, creature. Her rebuke only rolled off it the way rain did off an oiled leather tent.

As you command, it said, sounding not at all cowed. I would never dare disobey the mighty Stormcrow.

Yes, it was mocking her, with no small amount of glee.

Ba’an felt the frown forming even as she sharpened her focus to a fine razor’s edge. She would gut it. Now. Before it became a problem.

She began to tighten its cage, to keep it from wriggling away at the last moment. Tik-tak Mal’uk was oddly complacent; it seemed perfectly relaxed, though surely it understood what she was doing?

No matter.

Ba’an began to squeeze, seeking its edges so she could unravel its soul.

The creature was oddly slippery, like a cave newt. Whenever she thought she found an edge, her power simply slipped off it, as if it was made of something slick and glassy. Ba’an tried again and again, frustration mounting while Tik-tak Mal’uk only chuckled.

Do you require assistance, oh mighty Stormcrow?

She ignored it.

Ah, but that is a filthy outlander name. Do you require assistance, abomination?

Perhaps she did not have enough power. She would need her coat, but it would be risky to wear it now, surrounded by Dolkoi’ri as she was. Could she slip away?

She checked its bindings again. It was still bound, going nowhere. If she left in two days, she could deal with it on the road, in privacy, risking no one.

Yes, that was likely the best plan. It was not dangerous as it was now, merely annoying, and—

She turned her head toward the gate, suddenly tense as a familiar soul walked through it.

Why was Nikias returning to the estate now? It was deep into the night now, so deep that even the servants were sleeping. Dawn would come in a few scant hours.

…Where had he been?

Tik-tak Mal’uk seemed to slither away again, but Ba’an was far too distracted, suddenly anxious for an entirely different reason.

No. Surely not. His business likely had nothing to do with her. Nothing at all. Not—

He had stopped walking.

Ba’an could not see him from this distance in the dark, but she knew his face was turned in her direction, just as hers was turned in his.

They were at an impasse. She had sensed him, and he knew it; he had sensed her too, and she knew it.

She swallowed, but her mouth and throat were dry.

My, my, said Tik-tak Mal’uk, voice silky and full of poison, what a predicament. Why do you put yourself into these situations? Could it be that you’re an idiot?

It was enjoying itself intensely.

She ignored its taunting. There was no time to respond anyway—Nikias was coming. He was walking in her direction, though he was flanked by two men whose souls she hardly recognized. They had been in the estate, though she had not met them.

She pulled her fingers out of the water and waited, tugging her shawl tighter around her shoulders against the cold. The air was chillier than it had been, and her hair, which she had left loose, fluttered gently in the wind, lightly slapping her cheeks.

Calm.

Serenity.

Ba’an was a witch. Nikias was only a half-breed outlander.

Calm.

Serenity.

Hahahahahahah—!

She ignored it.

Nikias could not have possibly guessed what she was. There was no reason to assume that she was the Stormcrow. Powerful witches could do what she had done at dinner; it was rare, but not impossible. Ba’an had learned that trick when she was thirteen.

No, he could not possibly know.

Ba’an only had to remain calm. That was all.

He had his hood up, but he pulled it down as he approached, stopping at what she thought must be an appropriate distance. Nikias struck her as very polite, very proper. She imagined he must be very polite and proper even when he ordered an execution.

He inclined his head respectfully. “Lady Ba’an. Good…” he glanced pointedly at the moon, which was low in the sky, “…morning.”

“Sir Nikias. Good morning to you.”

“Are you well? It is quite the early hour for a stroll. If you need anything, you need only ask.”

“No, no. I was only…restless. I did not wish to disturb anyone by pacing…inside.”

“Ah, I see. Hypnos has passed over your bedroom, then. It happens at times.”

Hypnos. Perhaps that was a Dolkoi’ri god or spirit. Nikias looked K’Avaari, but he was an outlander through and through. That much was becoming clearer with each conversation.

He was still speaking. “Perhaps some tea? Our cures are not quite so effective as yours, but they often suit well-enough.”

His words were perfectly courteous, but his men had flanked her.

If she ran straight ahead, she would barrel into Nikias. If she ran left or right? His men. If she ran backwards—the fountain.

She was trapped.

“It is well. I will return shortly. I am only enjoying the flowers. They are very soothing.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. Are there any that strike your fancy? You need only say.”

Was this a trap of some kind?

“They are all very beautiful. I like the white ones.” She pointed. “I do not know what they are called, but they look similar to nau’tha.”

“Ah. Yes, they should.” Nikias walked to the flower bed and plucked a handful then returned, handing them to her. The flowers looked almost exactly like nau’tha, but the petals were larger, whiter than the moon. They smelled almost identical, their scent being only a shade richer than that of their scrappy blue counterparts.

What could she do? Decline? No. That would be rude. She took them, refusing to show her discomfort.

“They are a hybrid, developed here in Kyros. We call them night bloom as well. Would you like some seeds to take back? They grow well in half-shade, though they will need more water than nau’tha.”

A hybrid. Dolkoi’ri were breeding K’Avaari plants now? Did Nikias know what nau’tha was for?

Well, of course he did. That was precisely why they had done it—created night bloom that could be grown away from the desert. Did it work exactly, or did the dosing change?

Now Ba’an was conflicted.

The smile on his face was very kindly, but she did not trust it. At all.

“That is very thoughtful of you to offer, but…it is not necessary. You and sir Gaios have been very generous already.”

“It is you who are generous, lady Ba’an. You have returned to us our most precious friend.” He glanced toward the estate. “We would be pleased to host your escort as well. They need not stay with the caravans.” He turned back to her and smiled his pleasant smile again.

Oh no. Oh no.

Of course he had noticed.

Nikias was dangerous, like a still lake with a raging undertow running just beneath the surface.

Foolish. Ba’an had been foolish. Unutterably foolish.

“It is not needed, but thank you for the offer.” It was best to keep information minimal. Ba’an did not know how much he had guessed, but he would glean nothing from her carelessness.

“If you wish. Please, allow me to escort you back inside. It has grown chilly.”

She shook her head. Ba’an had no intention of allowing him to escort her anywhere. She needed to end this conversation. Quickly.

“Thank you, but it is well. I wish to sit beside the fountain a little longer. It is very soothing.”

“Ah, of course. If that is your wish.” He gestured to one of his men who took his place just behind her, standing as unobtrusively as possible. He was nearly as tall as Lukios, but had dark hair and a nose that had been broken at least once. It listed to the right. Whoever had hit him had been right-handed.

“Iphram will escort you back or bring you whatever you may need. You need only ask.”

It seemed she could not refuse.

“I…see. Thank you.”

“You are most wel—”

“Hey, you two!” Firelight splashed onto the courtyard from the open door of the kitchen. Lukios gave a cheerful wave, then began to walk toward them. He was holding a jug with two cups stacked on top of its mouth, the handle hanging from his fingers. A bowl was gripped in the same hand, hugged snugly in his palm.

“You having a moonlit picnic without me? That’s cold. Seriously.” He shook his head, tut-tutting as he approached.

“Not at all,” said Nikias, very smoothly. “I just happened upon our guest while returning from some business. I am only ensuring she is well.”

“Yeah? Thanks, Nik. Want some wine?”

Nikias raised a very elegant eyebrow. “Thank you for the offer, but no. My bed has been calling to me all night.”

“Ha, that so? Well, better get yourself to it, then. Goodnight, Niki!”

At Niki, Nikias’ mouth turned down into a frown, and he shot Lukios a frosty glare. Lukios only smiled wider, blithely unaffected as his teeth flashed white and hard in the moonlight.

Wisely, Nikias called a retreat.

“Goodnight, Lukios. Lady Ba’an.”

“Goodnight, sir Nikias.”

He inclined his head—very politely—and left, his guards trailing behind him with torches. Ba’an noted that their torches had burned low; she guessed that they had used the same torches to go to wherever they had gone and back, so that meant they had not travelled far.

What had Nikias been up to, so deep into the night?

It had not been a lover’s rendezvous. Of this, she was certain.

Lukios had gone silent, watching Nikias and his men leave with his back to her. Ba’an stood, relieved at his interruption. She did not think Nikias or his men would have harmed her, but it was good that Lukios had chased them away before she made yet another mistake.

She reached out and touched his arm, then blinked, surprised by how tense he was. Did he suspect Nikias of something as well?

“Lukios,” she started, and he turned to look at her. He was backlit by the moon, leaving his face in shadow.

“Had a nice chat with Niki?”

Ba’an felt her brow furrow, disturbed by his tone. The joviality was gone, replaced by something flat and cool.

“No,” she said. “It was not nice.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah?” He glanced at the night bloom in her hand. “Why? Don’t like the flowers he gave you?”

She held them up to him, puzzled. Ba’an had the feeling that she was missing something again. She could not understand why he seemed…upset.

“They are nau’tha, but not. Nikias said they are hybrids.” She paused, then added, “I did not realize your people bred ou—K’Avaari plants.”

“Guess you’re real impressed, huh?”

She frowned in earnest now, disturbed. “No.”

“No?” He stepped forward and took the flowers from her, so she could finally see his face. He was upset; his mouth was turned down into a frown, brow creased. “You two were looking real cozy.” The word cozy dropped hard and heavy like a stone from atop a gurti’gi.

Her mouth fell open. The noise that emerged sounded utterly appalled.

“Lukios. No. Nikias was questioning me.”

“What?” And now he sounded sincerely startled. Had he believed she and Nikias had been—?

Of all the foolish, idiotic, outrageous—!

“Lukios,” she snapped, now angry herself, “I was not dallying with Nikias. He was testing me. He…” she dropped her voice to a whisper, aware that there were servants about, roused by Lukios’ greeting, “…knows. Lukios, Nikias knows something. About me.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

Lukios glanced around as he came to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. The heat of his body was more than welcome in the chill of the coming dawn, and she shivered. He pulled her closer protectively and rubbed her arm through her shawl, touch tender.

“Let’s get inside,” he said, voice low. “Anyone around?”

“Yes. But Lukios, we have already been spotted. It does not matter.”

He sighed softly. “Right. Right. I was a tad loud. True. Still. Which way did you come out?”

“I followed the side corridor. It comes out over there.” She pointed toward the corner of the estate. It was very shaded and hidden, close to the high wall that shut the property off from others.

He led her swiftly through the rows of plants, past the courtyard and the kitchen, all the way around the building until they came to a very small and nondescript door. This was clearly meant for the servants. Ba’an listened, then nodded, and he reached for the handle.

The door swung open.

For some reason, Ba’an had expected it to be locked, but that was silly; Ba’an did not have a key, so she had left the door unlocked when she left. With how ludicrously late it was, who would come along and lock it?

Still, it was a relief. It meant she had not been followed or watched.

They made their way through the corridors as quietly as they could, Ba’an focused on avoiding any souls. They were mostly asleep, but Lukios’ boisterous greeting and venture had clearly roused someone; Ba’an sensed one of the servants moving about downstairs in the kitchen, then settling. Everyone else appeared asleep, though Nikias…

Yes, he was in his room, though she did not think he was abed.

Once they reached her bedroom, Lukios hustled her to the bed, having her sit against the wall away from the doors and window. She watched him secure the room, pushing the end table up against the door as she absently put a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed furiously.

She was hungry, and the food soothed her, somewhat.

Lukios tied the curtain over the servant’s entrance closed, hooking the fabric through the handle and knotting it. Then he moved to the window, shuttering it. He rummaged through one of her bags for a spare shawl, and tied that through the handles of the shutters, securing it.

Ba’an did not think anyone would attack them, but refrained from commenting. Nikias only suspected her, surely. They had met that evening, at dinner, and he did not seem a rash man. He would not have needled her if he had already been certain.

Once finished, he moved to sit beside her on the bed.

“Okay,” he said, finally. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

Ba’an opened her mouth and spoke. “I…used magic at dinner.”