I can't believe I was being dragged into this. Being woken up in the middle of the night by that blasted Toymaker and told that I had to travel with him across the continent all the way to Paris was not my idea of a good time. But Erik seemed to be in danger, so I had to help him. I had to.

"Wait, you let yourself get caught up with radicals? And you thought it was a good idea?"

"It was the sultana's orders! Besides, I only got caught 'cause they used cheap tricks. Come on. We have a long journey ahead of us.

Neither of us spoke until sunrise. Asking Erik lots of questions only would have made us both irritable. But I couldn't help wonder… Why did he ask for my help? If he had been on a mission for the sultana, surely she would have helped him? And did he really expect me to travel all the way to France with him? I have a life in Tehran. I'm dedicated to my work. If I abandoned the police force… How could Erik be so selfish? How could he do this to me? The nerve…

"Your sulking is becoming unbearable, Daroga."

"Well, fleeing my home in the middle of the night with you is enough to make anyone sulk."

"You could have said no."

"Did I have much of a choice?"

"Perhaps not. But I greatly value your help. I would not be able to escape without you." He seemed to be sincere. Bastard.

"Could you at least tell me what happened. In detail?"

"Soon." I didn't feel like arguing, so I let the conversation end.

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It had been less than two weeks. We had left our horses at the first inn we found in Batumi. The two of us had to wait till morning for a boat that would take us to Kerch. I learned that Erik could speak English, in addition to Persian and his native French.

"How many languages do you speak, Toymaker?"

"Fluently? Only five. But I can understand a little German."

"Only because of Herr Mozart, right?

"Don't forget Herr Beethoven, Daroga."

"Of course, my mistake." My mood wasn't as sour as it had been two weeks ago. However, Erik still hadn't told me anything about his business with the radicals.

Most of the inns and taverns we had stayed in only had one room for us. Batumi was no exception. I'll admit, the town was nicer than one could expect from a port town. In the quiet, I noticed how much Erik had changed. He wasn't as charismatic anymore.

"I think I deserve to know the truth." He gave me a surprised look. I suppose he had forgotten.

"… About a year ago, the sultana asked me to look into a rebel group. They were merely whispers, but they were popular, well-liked whispers. I was sent as a spy. And I was so close to bringing them down. But they were suspicious. My… measures of concealment bother people, I suppose. So they asked around, gave the wrong people too many drinks. Soon, they found out… everything."

"All because you cover your face?"

"My face is the one secret that I need kept above all else. Only my mother can handle seeing it."

"Ayesha? Or your real mother?" His only response was some English curse.

His hands became more fidgety than usual. Throughout our journey, he had been the composed one. But something was making him lose all the resolve he had. He kept reaching for the fabric masking his face, then changing his mind. He wanted me to see. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Erik would never be able to do it on his own. With a deep breath, I did the bravest and stupidest thing I had ever done.

"Erik, will you show me your face?" He was finally able to look me in the eye. He knew I had figured him out. He was frightened, but also relieved.

"… You won't like it."

"Try me." I tentatively took a few steps towards him. Now that it was actually happening, I was more worried about what the future held than what I was about to see. This could blow my case wide open. Erik, impatient as ever, grabbed my hand. Like a puppet, my hand removed his biggest defense mechanism.

I'm not sure what I expected. In Persia, he had been described as Death Incarnate. This wasn't far off. The skin stretched over the muscle too thinly. His lack of a nose wasn't as shocking to me as it probably should have been. Knowing the voice for eight years made the face just as familiar. His cheek felt like parchment. Of all the… moments Erik and I had shared over the years, this one was the most intense. Erik's eyes kept darting back and forth between my own eyes and my mouth. I don't know what to do.

"Say something Daroga. Please." I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, give him everything he wanted. Oh, Allah.

"Tomorrow, I'll see you off on the boat. But I'm going back to Tehran.

"What?" I took a step back.

"I can't leave my home. I'll ─ I'll tell the sultana you died. You'll be safe. But I can't go with you." I was pacing the room in worry.

"Daroga, what are you─"

"Erik, please don't. This is… it's for the best. You know I'm right." Erik was frozen in place, but I knew his mind was racing. Minutes passed in agonizing silence. Please say something.

"Yes, you're right. Forgive me, for assuming such an imposition.

The rest of the night passed in silence. I hated myself for betraying Erik. He made no effort to cover his face again. I knew he would never forgive me. I didn't blame him. I would never forgive myself.

Neither of us slept well. That night.