"Are you sure you won't have a drink, Anya? It's the good stuff! And Vee definitely won't notice it's missing. At least, not until it's too late!"

We sat around a table in the common room, Antoinetta and I nursing our goblets, my tears soothed by listening to their conversation and Luke curled up at my feet. Anya was charming, polite like she always was, but Netta acted like she'd known her all her life. Like we really were her sisters. Anya snorted and shook her head, a hand moving to her stomach.

"No thank you, dear. As much as I'd kill for a drink, I don't think the baby would appreciate it just yet."

"The ba – " I blinked, only now noticing the swell to her stomach. "You're pregnant? Again?"

"This will be number four." She laughed in her throat, hand rubbing up and down her belly now. "I'm about – oh, sixteen weeks along? I do hope Madame Tucket is right and it's a girl, this time. I love my boys, but the household is becoming something of a patriarchy, and that will never do."

"Ugh, men." Antoinetta rolled her eyes and sat again, slinging an arm around my shoulders and swigging from her goblet.

"Madame Tucket?" I stiffened at the thought of my old governess. "She's – she's not here, is she?"

"Oh, no, she's with the children at home. Oh, but I should have brought her." She smirked at me across the table. "The one woman who might have been able to get you in line! Even maman couldn't – "

She trailed off, a somber silence suffocating the cheery mood. After a moment she cleared her throat, gaze averted.

"I – I came to pay my respects, actually. To say goodbye. Vicente filled me in by letter, and I thought I should - be here. And to check on you." Her smile returned, though fainter. "It sounds like you've been getting into plenty of trouble."

For a long moment I was silent, ignoring her tease. She'd known – she must have known nearly all our lives, what maman was, what she'd done. I abandoned my wine for a moment to give Luke a scratch between his ears. She'd chosen her to train, and not me. The bread we'd eaten earlier felt heavy, sickly now in my stomach as though weighing down my words when I finally dared to speak.

"… Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"… Mother thought it best you didn't know. I trusted her judgement. Besides, I wasn't much of an assassin, not really. I was trained, but my heart was never in it. So she taught me other skills to help the Brotherhood, instead." Her gaze flickered to her hands, impeccably groomed. "Budgeting and financing certain contacts, calculating costs and the worth of each assignment, what each – employee should be paid for their work. I have a head for numbers, maman always said, and with stepfather sick…"

"He's sick?" I frowned, rolling the stem of the goblet between my fingers, making the liquid roil and mar my faded reflection in it.

"Mhmn. I'm not too surprised." A little sigh. She pulled a porcelain pin from her hair and began to play with it, tracing circles on the table. "When mum told him what she was, he was devastated. He wasn't going to say anything, of course, not after hiring the Brotherhood in the first place, but he never knew. And then, when we found out that she…"

She inhaled through her nares, eyes drifting shut. For a brief moment, I hated her – how could she be so calm, so held together when I felt like I was splitting apart at every seam? It'd always been that way. She was the composed, dutiful daughter, I was the wild black sheep.

But her eyes opened and glimmered with tears, and any childish anger melted away.

"… He did love her, you know, in his own way. All of us, really. He fell sick not long after finding out, and he hasn't recovered since. At this point, I don't really expect him to." An exhale and she was calm again. "Since my husband's name isn't as renowned as ours, we'll be taking the Toltette family name and crest, instead, when he passes. I have his blessing to do that, and already have full control of his wealth."

Once, the thought of Toltette sickly and wilting would have filled me with grim satisfaction. Now I only felt empty, swallowing back pity with a gulp of wine. How had I ever thought of him as some great enemy, some terrible tyrant? So much had changed now – it all seemed so far away, so petty.

The slam of a goblet and splatter of wine startled me out of my thoughts. Antoinetta pouted, standing from the table and slowly raising her goblet once more to take a deep sip before speaking.

"Listen t'you both! You'd think I'd borrowed Vicente's good booze for moping. Lighten up, ladies!" She grinned ear to ear, cheeks rosy after what must have been at least her third goblet. "Let's talk about something fun."

"Quite." Anya's lidded gaze turned to me, and suddenly I had the distinct feeling of being pinned down by it. "I hear you and the Listener are getting along remarkably well."

I felt my cheeks flare and lowered my eyes to my goblet, glowering. "Not hardly."

"Oh, Lucien! Y'know, I knew he'd be a Listener someday, I just knew it. And someday I'll be mistress of this Sanctuary. We'll all keep moving up in the world, you'll see!" Antoinetta burst into another fit of giggles. "And he's so handsome. You're lucky, Dusty. I dunno why he likes you so much, though. I mean, you're…" She gestured vaguely with a hand, Anya giggling behind her own. I leveled my glare onto her.

"I'm what, precisely?"

"Well, I mean – I'm only saying this because I love you, but look at you. Your hair's all chopped off like a boy's, you've got those frumpy robes on all the time and you always smell like old dried herbs – oh! Maybe it's your aphrodisiac!" She leered, practically sitting on my lap for how close she scooched her chair. "Is it the aphrodisiac? Or maybe a love potion, hmm? Oh, you've got to let me try it!"

"Antoinetta!"

"Dust, she's got a point. And I can tell you from our childhood my sister doesn't like sharing, Netta dear." Anya snickered, leaving me helpless to do anything but groan and hide behind my hands.

"You're both awful. Look, we've just – y'know, we've just shared a bed. I don't even like him – least, I don't think I do." I hiccupped and glared at my goblet now, blaming it for all my problems. "He's manipulative and sneaky, no matter how handsome he is. He used me. It's not like we're going to get married."

"That will be the day." Another snort from Anya, somehow delicate even as she gave an unladylike smirk. "By the time you get engaged, I'll be on my deathbed."

I grunted through another mouthful of wine. What was this, my second goblet? Third? It was getting hard to keep track. "Perfect. Then you can't interfere in my wedding." Anya only chuckled to herself, slowly shaking her head.

"So! What's he wielding, anyway?" Antoinetta rested her head on my shoulder. Her breath stunk of the wine – or was that only me? I blinked and she sniggered in my ear. "Y'know! A dagger, a shortsword, a claymore…?"

"You know he uses a shortswo…" The meaning of her question struck me, leaving me sputtering and slapping her away. Pity I couldn't melt, into the chair and slip out under the door. "Antoinetta! I'm not – I mean, I don't – "

"Oh, come on! You stole him away, so you can at least give me all the dirty details!"

"About the Listener?" Anya's brows raised. "Really?"

"Oh." Antoinetta settled, lips curving into another moue. "Well, when y'put it that way, I guess. But can you blame me for asking? Besides, this is what ladies talk about when they've been drinking. Not sad things and work."

"Oh, I don't know." Anya toyed with her pin further, now flicking it back and forth between her fingers. "I think your work must be fascinating, dear. Far more so than that of a quill-pusher like mine. Surely you've got some interesting stories…"

"Ooh!" She perked up again, grin spreading ear to ear. "I did have a very fun little contract recently. Spurned lover and all, you know? He cheated on the poor love with six other ladies! So it was only natural she wanted me to hit him where it would really hurt before he died, make him regret it a little, y'know? But it's so hard to make them last after you lop it off, there's so many veins there, they bleed out like…"

I interrupted, feeling bile rise in my throat. "Can we go back to discussing my love life? Anything but this. Please."

"Aw, Dusty, you're so cute." Netta burst into giggles again, throwing an arm around my shoulders to drag me close as I pouted. "It's really not as scary or tricky as it sounds. You kind've get used to it. Or even like it!"

Mercifully Anya interrupted, glancing up from her goblet to me. "You said the Listener 'used' you? What do you mean?"

I swallowed hard. Wine was better than bile, and even feeling nauseous I forced myself to scull what remained of my goblet. As Antoinetta pulled it over to refill it, I spoke. "… When we were in Leyawiin. He pretended to be a thief, near a man's route home. He knew I'd cry for help and he could kill him." I was worried the memories would resurface, but nothing did, even as I spoke. There was just a soft greyness to it, as though I was making it up as I went along. "And he used my poison to do it. I liked that man. Phillada – he was kind to me."

"I heard he'd gotten Phillada." Antoinetta's face hardened as she slid the goblet back to me. "Look, I know you don't like this stuff, but that's something worth celebrating. Trust me – he's taken family from us. He'd kill any one of us if he'd gotten the chance – you, me, even her for funding us." She jerked her head towards Anya, golden curls bobbing around her cheeks. "And you never got hurt, right? He was just doing what was best. What any of us would do."

I felt like my gaze could bore a hole into the table. How many times had I heard that? What any of us would do – any one of us would do the same. How was I so different from them, so separate from their values? How could I be family, yet not Family?

"You've got to get used to this kind of stuff, Dusty." Her voice softened and she rested her head on my shoulder again, giving me a one-armed embrace. "Maybe you could learn. I mean, the rest of us had to, right?" She blinked, then with a gasp jolted upright, giggling madly. "I know! Oh, I know exactly what you need. You'll come with me on a contract!"

"No." I glared, voice hard and brittle in my throat. "Absolutely not."

She sniffed, giving my sister a glance. She only looked away, brow furrowed. "I think 's a good idea! You need some practice, to learn what it's all about. How better to learn than with me, hm? It won't be anything messy! The contract is a poisoning one anyway, and it'll be right here in Cheydinhal!"

Here, in my home. The people who had come in and bought potions and traded idle chatter – who would it be? I shoved away the wine, shaking my head. "No, Antoinetta. I can't – "

"But you should! Trust me, the man's a complete fetcher anyway. And even if you don't come, he's going to have to die. You might as well, and get some experience." She hummed in thought, tapping her lip, then slowly smirked. "The Five Tenets."

"What about them?" I shifted warily, seeking Luke's head again for comfort. I knew of them, of course – stone tablets on the walls, decreeing the laws that ruled this family, and the wrath that would come down on those who disobeyed.

The wrath of their father, by the wraith of my mother. I shuddered.

"Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior," Antoinetta intoned, looking more and more smug by the minute. "To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. And since you," she pointed," Don't even have a proper rank, technically I'm your superior! So you have to do what I say. Trust me, you don't want to disobey the five tenets." She nearly squealed in delight, clapping her hands. "I never get to be in charge! Oh, but it's for your own good. We have to go to a party to kill the sod – you'll need to get a proper dress."

Was that true? I stared for a moment, jaw hanging. Did the laws of the Five Tenets apply to me? Surely by now I'd dishonoured the Night Mother, screaming and cursing her like I had. Yet then, I hadn't known that my mother would serve her.

If I disobeyed, would the last thing I'd see be my mother's flickering face, twisted and dark?

I didn't want to find out. I dragged my hand over my face and turned to my sister, staring, near begging. "Anya?"

She remained silent a long moment, staring at her pin before slowly sliding it back into her hair and meeting my gaze with a placid little smile. "…You could use a new dress."

"Oh, this will be just perfect! Alright, Dusty - here's what I'm thinking."

Her words droned into a constant, dull hum, white noise in the background of my head. It was all so absurd, her cheeriness, my sister here and nodding along, the lingering scents of wine and garlic all mingling in a surreal fog.

I was going to become a murderer.