Over tea and leftovers, I filled Antoinetta in on my new situation. She let out a low, long exhale, gaze flickering up to mine. "… I'm glad you didn't let that bastard scare you."

"He did scare me." I dangled a bit of pheasant above Luke who watched it with mournful eyes, letting out a piteous whimper until I at last let it drop and it disappeared in a snap of his jaws. "But – well, I couldn't let it show." I gave him a scratch with a little smile, getting that favourite spot behind his left ear. "… And Lukey helped, of course."

"Still. This – " Another sigh. "… This could be really bad. We're about discretion."

"But they don't know it was you, your – your people." I fought back a shiver, picking at what remained on my plate, unable to bring myself to eat it. Instead I took up my tea. "They think I was sent by some rival gang, bullied or paid off or something."

"Yeah." She made a face, little nose bunched up. "No, nobody'd ever look at you and think 'assassin'."

"And they would you?"

A wicked giggle. She waggled her brows, reaching to take one of the little ginger biscuits I'd set out for after our meal. "That's part of why I'm good at it. But, listen, no changing the subject." She wagged the biscuit before taking a bite, brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell us? Me?"

Here was what I dreaded. I couldn't hold her gaze, turning it into my mug as I tried to quell my churning stomach with a long sip. "… I didn't – I'm already – entangled enough, Antoinetta. I'm tired of answering to others. Besides, you'd want to handle it… your way."

She glared, a pout curling. "Sounds like they deserve it, to me."

"Maybe. But I also don't want to have any more blood on my hands, even if it's of people like them." I'd taken a biscuit too, dipping it in my tea and managing a bite, but even that didn't go down well. A sigh and I tossed the rest to Luke, efficiently disposing of it.

Now it was Netta's turn to avoid my gaze, stirring her tea for a long, awkward moment. Finally she looked up, just enough for me to meet her eyes under blonde lashes. "…I have to tell Ocheeva, you know."

"… I know."

"But whatever happens…" She reached for my hand, giving it a little squeeze. "You're safe. Okay? I know you don't – you don't always like working for us, like you have to." There was disappointment there, but now maybe a measure of acceptance. Not quite understanding, but as close as it would come. "But I won't let anything happen to you."

I snorted under my breath, squeezing her hand in turn before pulling back. "I should be more worried about Ocheeva."

"I heard what happened. Did you really say all that?" Her eyes grew saucer-sized. "Right to her face?"

"I guess I didn't think it was such a controversial statement." I managed a little smirk but she only sighed, slowly shaking her head.

"I mean, it's – kind've unheard of. You're not one of us, but you still…" Her brow furrowed again, thoughtful. "… I've never really liked anyone outside of the Family this much, you know? I mean, you're not really an outsider, but you're not a Sister, either. It's weird."

"I've gotten tired of labels." I watched my faint reflection dapple on the surface of my tea, half-drunk and cooling fast. "Trying to organize it all. I'm going to try to be what I want to be, I'm going to love who I love, and damned to Oblivion with everything else."

"Well, that sounds nice enough." Antoinetta finished off another biscuit, chewing thoughtfully. "But what were you gonna do about the smugglers without us? Just ignore 'em? Work for 'em?"

"I was –" For all my bravado, I felt my face go hot as she eyed me. "… I was going to figure that out! I just needed – to think." Under her reproaching glare I shrank. "I'll figure it out!"

"You'd better start thinking. They're not going to wait around long before they start acting on threats, and I'm going t'have to tell Ocheeva, anyway."

That was true. But how? How to deal with them? I clung to the thought they wouldn't dare run to the guards, but what if – what if they did?

I'd come too close to prison once already, and only by luck and Lord Farwil's interest had I escaped it. Or – or they might not even consider prison, for something like this. I bit my tongue hard enough to hurt, bringing a hand to my throat as though feeling the strangle of a noose around it.

"… We're not gonna let that happen, Dusty. One way or another. Look, before I go talk to the Speaker, let's – let's think together!" She scooted her chair closer, bright and reassuring. "We're good at that. Let's go over it, like I do a contract. Examine all possibilities, prepare. That's what Teinaava says t'do."

My tea had gone cold. I pushed it aside, making room at the table for Luke to stick his head in my lap. A moment of fondness – he always knew when I needed a moment of comfort. I stroked his ears, eyes closed in thought. "… Alright. The smuggler gang know I poisoned Voranil. They don't know the real reason why. I know their gang includes that smoke-handed bastard, Magub – I think Dulfish must be his brother…"

"And the two at the party, right? The dopey looking one that saw you, Buzzer or something – "

"Bazur."

"Right, right," A dismissive wave, "And the shopkeep. There could be more, though. And they thought you were working for someone, right?"

"The Tong, he said."

The name meant nothing to me, but Netta stiffened. "The Cammona Tong? That explains the 'smoke-skin' thing. I'm surprised the Tong would work with Orcs."

"Who are they?"

She shrugged, sitting back in the chair while taking a bite of another biscuit. "Gangsters. Worse than the Orums, maybe – they get things in and out of Morrowind. They hate anyone but Dunmer, too."

"He thought…" I frowned, staring down at my wringing hands. "Thought that the Tong found another distributer, a Dunmer to work for them. I think he was just making guesses. But if the Tong did find another distributer, wanted to get away with giving less product to the Orum gang without arousing their suspicion…"

"Their best customer being dead would be the perfect excuse," She finished my thought, brows lowering in concentration. "They won't give 'em product they can't sell. That's why they're suspicious and think they hired you t'do it."

"But why blackmail me to make their skooma? Shouldn't they have someone for that?"

"Well, if they think the Tong is betraying them, they're probably planning to betray 'em right back! Instead of distributing their skooma and only getting a cut, they must have someone else lined up to sell 'em moonsugar. And then, back here at their home base…"

"They've got me to make their poison." I rankled at just the thought. My home, my beautiful laboratory, tainted not just by poison but by poison people would happily drink. I knew well enough from those herbs I'd breathed under Sheogorath's shrine how tempting such substances could be, melting away all fears, all grief. My laboratory, even that no longer really mine. Half the week making poisons for the Brotherhood, the other half carefully refining moonsugar…

That little tingle bloomed into a full-fledged spark, making me catch my breath as I sat upright again. Yes – yes, they wanted me to refine it. And I knew how – it wasn't especially difficult or delicate, not like distilling the ghoul heart extract had been.

But it could be dangerous. Very dangerous.

"Dust? You're thinking something, aren't you!" She practically crawled onto the table, arching over it to plant her face in front of mine. "I can see it! C'mon, out with it!"

"It's – I'm not sure yet." I clamped down on that thought, not daring to lose it but unwilling to share it just yet. Instead I met Antoinetta's gaze, chewing my lip. "Netta…"

A glare. "Don't even try, Dust. You know I have to tell her."

"I know! I know. But not yet."

"Dusty…"

"Give me – three days. Three days, that's all I ask. If I haven't got it fixed myself by then, tell her. Better yet, I'll tell her myself." Three days. I could have it done in two, if I was very lucky. If not, at least it bought me time. "I'm not asking you to lie, Netta. If she comes to you suspicious, tell her the truth. But just don't tell her yet, that's all." I took her hand and squeezed hard, pleading. "… Promise me?"

A long moment of silence. I held my breath, not daring to speak until at last she slumped, pulling away. "… I promise not to tell Ocheeva about it, for three days. Unless she asks me. There. That okay?"

"Thank you."

"You owe me big-time, now."

"Really? Considering you've eaten half your weight in my biscuits…"

"Sod your biscuits!" I sputtered through a faceful thrown at me, hearing them snap and crumble against the floor. In an instant there was the creak of chairs pushed back, the clatter of claws as Luke danced around to help clean up the mess. "You make me hide things, look after Luke, you never want to bake or talk or – "

"That's what we're doing today, isn't it? Stoppit, you're getting crumbs everywhere!"

"Good!"

"Netta, I don't want to hurt you but I swear, I'll throw your arse right back out on the street – "

"Think you could take me, pestle humper?"

"With that bad arm of yours? I think I could!"

By the time I'd paid back my dues, she'd proved me thoroughly wrong.

"I guess I can forgive you now. For ditching me before."

We'd spent the afternoon in my kitchen, Antoinetta taking full advantage of one with no restrictions on usage of garlic. Even now, I could smell whiffs of it – herbs and sharp cheese from the rolls we made, now cradled in a basket under her good arm. That, and the smell of ginger crumbs still clinging to my hair. I grinned, giving her a pinch. "Now that you've left my kitchen a mess?"

"Now that we finally had some fun together." A haughty sniff, then she trailed to a stop. I followed suit, frowning and tilting my head in the same direction as her eyes came alight.

"Listen!"

I listened. A song wound merrily around the plaza, giving a little cheer to the steps of everyone who passed as it rose and fell like a breeze through the humid air. "A lute?"

"Let's go see!"

We weren't the only ones attracted to the sound. While most passed by on their own business, a few had stopped – an older Imperial man sat on the steps of the chapel, nodding his appreciation. A young couple, hardly more than teenagers, danced arm in arm. The bard sat up straighter as we approached. A Bosmer man flashing a charming grin, lute in his arms and a violet hat with a sparse few coins his day's earnings.

"Summer graces us tonight, hm? Warm and sweet as a maiden's kiss." Beside me Netta tittered as I fought the urge to roll my eyes or blush, torn between the two. "Anything you'd like to hear? I'd trade one of those delicious smelling rolls for a song…"

"Oh! Oh!" She tugged on my sleeve, practically bouncing in place. "Something – something Bretony! And you can teach me to dance to it!"

"I – "

"C'mon! I taught you. It's only fair you teach me something, too!"

"At your service, ladies."

I sighed, meeting Netta's pleading stare with one of my own. The sun would be going down soon – I'd enjoyed our day together, I'd needed it, but now I needed to get to work. Still, those big sad eyes…

And more, the tug of the strings. He began to play something new, something jaunty and leaping. The sort of thing that made my feet itch, made my body ache to move.

An echo in my head, the story I now knew by heart whispered back to me. From her tendons he made lutes. From her skull and arm bones he made a drum. From her bones he made flutes. He presented these gifts to the mortals, and thus Music was born.

How could I resist?

So we danced. Careful to mind her sore shoulder I taught Netta footwork, the rabbit-quick step after step of a proper jig. To keep her head high, remembering what Tucket had taught me long ago – 'no dancer ever stares at her feet!' Laughing, first at each other, then at ourselves as the Bosmer took bites of his roll between tunes.

"That's hard!" Antoinetta panted, resting her hands on her knees. We were both red in the face by the end of our impromptu dance. The couple had moved on, though the old man had stayed and clapped along, round belly shaking with laughter at our antics. "I ne-hever knew dancing was so hard! It's so much to remember, so fast."

"Only if you're doing the proper dances." I caught my own breath, feeling the trickle of sweat down my nape, wiping it off my brow. A breeze made me shiver in relief, the evening becoming blessedly cool now as the sun sank. "If you just do what feels right, you don't have to memorize. You just – do."

"Well, I need a break." She slumped beside the bard – not without a little flutter of her lashes, I noticed – and picked up one of the rolls, stretching. "Entertain me, peasant!"

"Peasant!? I'm a marquess – "

"No arguing! You owe me!"

The Bosmer man cackled and I rolled my eyes, stretching and stepping back for space as Antoinetta gleefully clapped. It did feel good, admittedly. Like it had in the ruin, like it had at Sheogorath's shrine, the sort of dancing I always loved over lessons and balls. There was rhythm, yes, but it was something I felt, not something I knew.

No, that wasn't quite right. It was an expression of what I felt. My twirls and twists, the chaotic months of my life that had led this far. My hands over my chest in grief and fear, bursting out and up in an arch of hope. Motion flowing into motion, an outlet as I laughed and hummed to the tune, my heels clicking on cobble as Antoinetta clapped along. It wasn't the precise waltzes or jigs I'd been taught as a girl, nor the foot-stamping, spinning frenzy that brought thoughts of ale and bonfires.

It was just – me. Mine, and a bloom of warmth seemed to almost glow in me for a moment, my grin going lopsided as I remembered who I had to thank for that.

Dancing – movement for the sake of itself, making an art form out of one's own body. No practical purpose, no logical design. Pure pleasure, pure emotion.

What could be madder than that?

"Sir." I barely heard the bard through the giddy haze I felt, slowing to a stop just in time to see Antoinetta looking past me, eyes wide. The Bosmer had a brow arched, drawling. "Artists such as we rely on patronage, not gawkers. A coin or two for the young lady and her bard, yes?"

I was about to protest as I turned - I didn't do this for coin, I didn't do this for anyone but me...

Oh.

Lucien dressed in his day clothes watched with hooded eyes, only the smallest of smirks curling his lips at the bard's scolding. My face burned like a brand as he reached for a satchel on his belt, flicking over two septims I stumbled to catch. Before I could speak, uncertain words lodged in my throat, he had turned to stroll away.

"Merchants." The bard drawled, licking the last few buttery crumbs of a roll off his fingers before giving us a grin. "Not bad for an evening's work, mn? A dance, a song, a warm roll and the company…" He turned a pearly grin to Antoinetta, giggling at his side. "Of two lovely ladies."

"The pleasure was all ours," Netta purred. Willing the blush away I moved back to him, dropping the coins in his hat.

"Thank you. I – I needed that."

"I could tell." He quirked a thin brow, then turned his attention back to my partner-in-crime. "Perhaps I could help you – both, if you like - work off a little more energy, this evening?"

Dammit, the heat in my face had just barely begun to fade and now it flooded back as Antoinetta tittered. "I – "

"I'll meet you behind the chapel in half an hour." Businesslike she stood, her countenance marred only by the wink she gave. "I'd better walk my friend home, first. She gets into trouble if I'm not watching her."

"Then I shall wait with bated breath." Again, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he bowed, gathering up his things while Netta took my hand and led me in the other direction.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"Him. 'Miles', he – what's going on between you two?" A pout. She moved to smack my arm, but this time I was quicker, flinching away with a half-hearted glare. "I can never keep up! First you hated him and then you were healing him and then you left again, and then last I heard M'raaj-Dar saw you and him walking out with a picnic basket – "

"It's…" A strange feeling in my throat, thick and cloying sweet, yet also tinged with bitterness. I choked it down, pursing my lips at Netta's expression. "… Complicated."

"Yeah?"

"We're so different." I thought of my dream, alchemy combining the impossible. Making opposites find their common ground. Was that what I was trying to make? "I – I want to be with him, around him, but…"

"… He'd help, y'know. With your problem, with the gang. If you asked."

"I know he would. That's why I can't."

"I don't think I'm ever going to understand you. Just – be careful, alright?" A long-suffering sigh, then quick as a flash her grin was back, wicked as ever. "Sure you don't wanna join me and the bard for a threesome behind the chapel?"

I lowered my voice to a scolding hiss, trying not to laugh. "Antoinetta!"

"I'm just teasing! I want him all to myself. Maybe I can get him to serenade me first." She batted her blonde lashes, making me choke on laughter in spite of myself. Then she softened, growing somber. "… Three days, Dusty. I shouldn't even be doing that."

"I know. I'll make it up to you, somehow."

"Next time we're going dress shopping."

"Next time – and there will be a next time, I promise. I can't be part of – of all of your life, but I can do this with you."

"Baking, eating biscuits and flirting with bards." She snickered, eyes glittering. "The stuff that matters, right?"

"Exactly. Good night, Antoinetta."

"G'night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

I watched her sashay off, humming and minding her bad shoulder as she balanced what remained of the rolls on the other. My sister – in spirit if not in blood or Family. Where I was naive, she was all too worldly. Where I was indecisive, she was straight and certain as an arrow. Where I would create, she would destroy.

And yet, we'd found common ground. Maybe I could do that with him, too.

But those thoughts would have to wait. Though Antoinetta had walked me home, I waited until she was well out of sight before retracing my steps, back towards the main road where we'd visited the General Shop hours before. Steeling myself with every step, willing myself to believe I could do this.

I had to do this. I couldn't bear more blood on my hands, not in the Brotherhood's name, but neither would I be prisoner to another. I had a plan. I could fix this.

I just had to put it in action.

They'd closed by the time I arrived, the sky overhead cast in an orange-red hue that seemed to hang heavy in the air. A deep breath, held in my lungs as I knocked. One, two heavy raps.

Finally, it creaked open. Yellow eyes met mine, then narrowed.

"We need to talk."