She waited until Aletheia fell asleep by the fire before approaching Rook. He stared at her helplessly.

“Not tonight,” he whispered, with no conviction. “She’ll hear us.”

“That has hardly stopped us before…” She smiled, coming to rest beside him. “Tired, are you?”

“Just my sword arm.”

“That is easy enough to work around.” Eris quieted in contemplation. Looking past the fire, into the wet and dark forest beyond. “But tonight you may rest. ‘Tis not why I came.”

“Yet may be why you don’t.” He turned his head toward her, now grinning.

“How it was you were not whisked away to become court jester I shall never understand.”

He slicked back his soaked and sweaty hair. It was quite long now. With the sun set and the rain still falling the air was surprisingly cold, despite the humidity, and he reached out to hold her by the waist, but she pulled away.

His touch felt good. It alarmed her that she might even be contented to rest her head on his shoulder and sleep at his side, like Aletheia and Pyraz cuddling together. He smelled musky and masculine and his shirt was glued tightly to his chest and she almost relented, but in having these thoughts she retreated farther.

A look of brief disappointment played across Rook’s face. That alarmed Eris even more. Their arrangement was not one of cuddling, of touching at all, except for one very particular purpose. Why so much touching? She hated being touched, even by him, even when expected.

“Why do you do this?” she said.

“What?”

“We have decided the tenor of our night yet you molest me regardless.”

“My arms are long and need go somewhere. Should I put my hands in my lap?” he said, somewhat confused.

“You may keep them in your trousers for what I care, so long as they are to yourself.”

He nodded slowly. Eris did not understand what there was to find confusing. “All right,” he said, but as everything was about to return to normal, he added, “Though, men and women do often touch. Sometimes even with their clothes on.”

“That is not our relationship,” she said.

“Even when it’s cold?”

“Even when we are freezing to death.” She spoke with her teeth clenched.

“You felt differently in Nanos.”

“That was entirely different.”

He leaned back again, closing his eyes. “And here I had planned to take us back to Chionos next.”

At first she made no inference from his comment, but then she realized. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing but to say that I’d sleep easier with you next to me.”

Everything, all her plan, dissolved away, replaced with fury. Rook was never resolute in his disavowal of romance, true enough, but she had extracted some promise from him that he would avoid sentimentality and any thought whatsoever that the two of them were engaged in more than the pursuit of lust.

“That must not be what you want from me.”

“Want what, Eris?”

“To lie beside you like a loyal dog for warmth. Perhaps I might provide you with pups, given time? How cozy we will all be then!” She was angry. They had been so close to the perfect arrangement. “You cretin! You will ruin everything!”

Normally he was resigned to her castigation but this time he leaned toward her. “You do have the manner of a bitch, you might be better with pups than you think.”

In a perfect life she would have been calmed greatly at that. Her companions could insult her however they liked; most were justified, many were true, and in any case she did not care what others thought of her. Such beratement from Rook should have only proven to her there was nothing between them.

Except it didn’t. It came like a punch and for a moment she was left dazed and she found herself only angrier. Rook had no right to insult her. He was her plaything—her possession. Yet even worse than the insult, which she knew she deserved, was that he didn’t mean it—he was still smiling at her, he had been joking.

There was something else, too. Something she couldn’t quite express, but which she felt vividly all the same: it hurt to know he thought poorly of her. She never would have expected that.

“Stroll into any city,” she said slowly, “and you will find a hundred women who will cling to your arm and give you whatever you want. Do not graft your perversions onto me.”

“What’s perverse about sharing affection with a lover?”

She was revolted. She could think of no way to respond. “We—” she stammered, but finding no words she growled in frustration. Earlier this had all been so clear. “We have been over this. We are not discussing it again. You have promised to me already that we would never go down this road.”

“I lied,” he said.

They were no longer whispering. “You lied,” Eris said.

“Of course I lied, and you only believed me because you were lying to yourself.”

“You are insane.”

“You know it’s true.”

“I know no such thing! What future do you imagine between the two of us? A family? A cottage in the woods after we retire from this rugged life? Indeed we already have a surrogate daughter to raise.”

Rook shrugged. Eris was very agitated but he still seemed relaxed, and it was disarming, which only made her more irritated. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“I am not ‘afraid’ of anything, but there are some fates suffocation would be preferable to.”

“A cheek on the shoulder and a hand around the waist are hardly preludes to domesticity.”

“Yet they are preludes to domestication. We are partners and we have done well together, but you know who I am. These vestiges of normalcy—I do not want them and I shall never have them. You might be the Archon’s lost son and ‘twould make no difference. Moreover—” she righted herself— “I feel nothing for you, so you may dismiss these thoughts at once.”

“If you feel nothing,” Rook said, “then what’s the harm in a touch?”

She frowned. Her mouth opened but closed soon again like a fish underwater. Only seconds later did she realize the strange gymnastics of her eyebrows as she considered him. “Because,” she managed at length, shaking her head, “I—do not want to encourage you!”

“That would explain the manner you dress.”

She covered herself reflexively. “That is—entirely different. ‘Tis one thing to draw a man’s eyes, another to feel his lust, and another entirely to be his possession.”

He relaxed against the tree, kicking his legs over themselves. “You can incinerate me in my sleep. Or turn me into a frog. Only an idiot would think he owned you.”

“You are an idiot, so do not be surprised at my concern.”

“You conflate so many different things,” he said, “but ignore the connection between making love and having it. That’s what you said, I remember, but it’s not true that one needn’t follow the other. When I’m close to you at night I want to hold you, how couldn’t I? But it’s not true that you’ll be forced to give up your freedom just because you grew too close to me. I would never ask you to.”

“You are asking me to now,” she said. “And for women it is true. But you cannot understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“This romance, this love—it is dependency, and it is a lie. It is a chain which binds two souls together for no purpose. I have seen what happens to those who are too dependent, who are enthralled to ‘love.’” She thought back to Astera. Immortality thrown away for the life of a child—that was the derangement of love. “It brings nothing but death and weakness. I have no use for it. It is by necessity the relinquishing of freedom in the very spirit.”

“Then you are afraid of what you might feel.”

“I feel nothing and I never will. I protect you as much as I protect myself. We are both the better off for it.”

He spent a long time considering his next tactic. “All this power and glory and wealth we’re after. None of it means anything if we’re not happy in the lives we live. Love is what brings us that happiness, Eris. Romance. To share something more than just space with another person, but the connection that makes us human.”

He used that word. Happiness. It made her pause in horror. But her retort came quickly enough: “Forgive me while I vomit,” she said. “Do not tell me you believe such drivel.”

“Imagine you find everything you want at the Magister’s Keep. Every spell you could ever learn, and enough money to last an eternity, and you’re made Regizara of the New Kingdom. Infinite power and comfort and security. What would you do next?”

“…I do not sit around fantasizing about days which will never come.”

“Would you be happy?”

“Stop using such a useless word! But if you mean content, then I see no reason why not. And what would you do, if showered in wealth and taken back to wherever ‘twas you came from? Mope about and brood, perhaps?”

“I would have a family of my own to share it with. That’s what would make it worth having.”

Eris shuddered. “Then as I said. You may find any number of adoring women to impregnate and marry; they shall give you just what you desire. Wait long enough and perhaps even Aletheia would qualify, she does look at you like a jackal—‘tis not all brotherly, I can guarantee. But do not expect this from me. I will never give it to you. And this ‘love’ you crave—this affection—that neither. Look at me. I am passion. I am lust. I am desire. That is why you come to me. Nothing more.”

That all was enough to make even Rook angry, but as he glared at Eris he looked over toward the fire, and when Eris followed his gaze she saw Aletheia sitting up and staring back at them. Pyraz sat next to her. He also stared.

The girl looked away with an expression that suggested she wanted to dissolve. “Please stop fighting,” she whispered.

Rook gave another glare. Then his face softened. “This isn’t fighting,” he said. “Were Eris really angry, I’d be hopping away on four legs.”

In fact she was really angry. Her face was flushed and her heartrate elevated and this sudden diversion caught her off-guard. She did not like the casual suggestion that she would be willing to harm Rook. He was perhaps the only person in the world she never would consider using magic against, even in a fit of rage.

The rain came down hard. Downpour against the canopy was not half so loud as the cascade of water off the stone leaves like gutters and onto the rocky mud two dozen feet below. Wet as they still all were only a few splashes reached them.

Eris sighed. Maybe she was naïve. No doubt there were men who could give her what she wanted, but Rook was not one of them. He was too sentimental. Too loyal. Too honorable. All qualities she found revolting. So why wasn’t she revolted?

Perhaps the reason she still pursued him was the same as the reason he pursued her.

For the time being it wouldn’t matter. He could continue to give her what she wanted, and whatever he felt toward her, whatever dedication, whatever love, was his leash—not hers. So long as she did not reciprocate then these feelings might even have their advantages, as his caretaking during her spellsickness two years ago showed. And so long as her desire was occasionally quenched, she would continue to feel nothing in return.

They sat together, listening to the rain. Everyone in thought.

“Why was it you came to me?” he said. “Was it to argue?”

“Ah,” she said. “No, it was not. I had a question for you about the seeress Hebat.”

Rook had maintained good humor throughout their argument, but now he nodded seriously. “What of her?”

“…she provided a most compelling glimpse into your past. You and I have been acquainted for some time, yet I have realized now that I know little of how you came to be an adventurer. And I am curious.”

He glanced away. “Funny you mentioned it, for I am the lost son of the Archon. I ran away to become a jester in Antipalos but was cast away by the prince for pointing out the phallus-shaped scar on his chin before the whole of court. The story is rather funny, although it wasn’t nearly so at the time—”

“Amusing though such lies are around the fire,” Eris said, “I was serious.”

“You never said,” Aletheia piped in. “What happened when you left the University.”

Rook sighed and frowned. “You were raised in Katharos, weren’t you?”

“I would not use that word…but I did spend time there in my youth,” Eris said.

“Our clan, the Korakoi, are doux.”

She stared at him. Perhaps the name had been familiar, but then names meant little most often. The title of doux was a different matter. It was the highest rank of the city’s aristocracy. Its holders owned vast swaths of land outside the walls and ran quarters unto themselves. To be doux in Katharos was good as prince most anywhere else; there were only three in all.

Apparently he could read the expression on her face, because he added, “We were very rich.”

“I thought,” Eris began slowly, “you were a hetairos, a knight.”

“I was. In fact I am; watch your tenses.”

“Yes, but a landed aristocrat—a doux—you have spoken often about where you were raised and I suppose it should come as no surprise, yet…Wait. The doux are cousins of the Archon, are they not?” Rook nodded. “You are a prince?”

“The Korakoi are a cadet branch of his family. I’m 73rd in line. Or I was when I left, the number has the habit of moving every week. Does that change your mind on romance after all?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Not least because you seem to be quite impoverished now.”

“I’m unlikely to find myself Archon,” he said, “but the title of doux is still mine. My uncle keeps it warm.”

“What happened?” Aletheia said.

He was apprehensive to continue. “Politics. Am I to sit here all night and tell the whole story? It’ll be day by the time I’m done, and we need to sleep sometime.”

“Politics are likely to put us to sleep,” Eris said. “You might at least tell us how you came to find yourself living in the gutters with the likes of me and Zydnus.”

“It’s okay,” Aletheia said. “You don’t have to.”

For a man so normally open Eris found it strange to watch his face twist as he considered what next to say. She felt her own heart sink. Some questions were best left unasked. Fighting was one thing, but this she regretted already.

“My parents were murdered,” he said at last. “I was forced to flee the city. I went to Antipalos, then Rytus, where I met you.” He nodded to Eris. Then he hung his head. “I’ll go back someday for what’s mine, but for now the gutters are comfortable enough. That’s the story.”

A long silence.

“I am sorry,” Eris managed. “I should have known—”

“It’s all right,” he said. “There’s plenty more to tell. But not tonight.” In the silence that followed Eris had expected him to dismiss her, but instead he followed with a question, “Can I ask about your parents?”

“You might, though I would not be certain as to why.”

“He wants to know why you’re so crazy,” Aletheia said.

“Aletheia,” Rook scolded, but Eris laughed the insult away. The words from this girl meant nothing. “I’m only curious.”

“Then it should sate your curiosity to know I left their care when I was very young. They were of no importance. I hardly remember them. For the part of my youth which matters I was raised in the care of the Magisters, at Pyrthos.”

“Then I’m sorry,” Rook said. “Aletheia has told me about Antigone’s trials. They sounded horrific. I can only imagine what that was like.” He paused for a moment. “Are you all right?”

Eris stared at him. “Horrific?” she echoed.

“That’s why you left, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. The implication of Rook’s words made no sense to her. What he suggested was ludicrous. “Of course not,” she said. “I left because I was caught stealing. Not because I loathed my life there.”

“Even after what they did to you—”

“What they did to me?”

“The Manasearing.”

“You think I harbor enmity over my searing?”

“Of course. You were just a child—”

“They made me a magician.”

Rook stared at her. “They tortured you.”

“Please,” Eris said. “‘Tis a surgical procedure. I will admit that it is unpleasant, yet it was well worth the pain. I would hardly call it torture.”

“You hold nothing against them?”

“Hold it against them? Why would I? Were it not for the Tower I would be nothing. I would have no choice, like any other woman, but to fall upon you for protection. Yet because I was chosen by the Magisters I have power. Anyone who harbors contempt for that gift—and it is a gift, the greatest that can be imagined—is a fool.”

How long had they known each other and Rook still put a hand to his forehead, stunned at this revelation. “They made you a slave, didn’t they? You never agreed to it. You couldn’t leave.”

“I never wanted to leave permanently, before I needed to, and we may forgive my eight-year-old self for not understanding what she was being given. It is true that they were cruel; I harbor no respect for the Magisters, nor their withered and senile institutions. But I am grateful every day that it was me they chose and not someone else. They fed me, clothed me, instructed me on the arcane—you think I am spiteful over these things?”

“They took us away from our families,” Aletheia said.

“A magician does not need a family. What you received in return was far better than what you lost.”

Rook stared at her. “How would you know, when you’ve never had one?”

She shook her head. “You may as well ask how I know ‘tis better to have two arms than a man to kiss me to bed at night. After all I have never tried living as a dismembered torso, so I cannot say for certain.”

“You could have both,” he said softly.

“We are not going over this again. I am tired of this discussion.” Finally she stood. She looked about the fire, and she felt a wave of lethargy hit her. She was also overcome with the desire to move far off, but she decided that would be too dangerous in this unknown place, and instead merely retreated to her bedroll, turned away from her companions on her side.

When she fell asleep she had a nightmare about cuddling. Momentarily, upon waking up, she thought it was real; she felt something warm at her side and brought it in closer, feeling its breathing against her chest, but only when she opened her eyes did she realize it was Pyraz.

She kneed him to make him run away. And so much worse than the bad dream was that as she lied there on the wet earth, she found herself annoyed that it only had been a dream. That made her cringe and petrify like any number of the trees around her.