Chapter 3: School Grounds

I adapted to the rhythm—so to speak—of life at the Bards College pretty quickly. Get up, exercise, bathe, grab breakfast with my classmates, go to class, take lunch, go to more classes, have dinner, evening practice, free time, and sleep. It was the most stable that my life had ever been. I had a regular schedule, saw the same faces every day, and never left the ground of the college.

Honestly, it was driving me a little crazy.

After nearly three years of life as a member of the Dark Brotherhood, a regimented schedule was as foreign to me as the life of an assassin would be to any of my classmates. I was used to staying up as late as I liked, staggering out of bed when I pleased, eating dinner with my family if they were in, and going wherever I wanted to go—and, of course, killing people for money.

At the Bards College, everything was taken care of for me. There were servants who made my bed while I was out of my room. Food was ready at all hours of the day if I cared to eat. The bath was always warm whenever I wanted one. There were lots of free rooms for individual practice and performance. But those were all creature comforts, illusions designed to hide my essential status as a prisoner.

After the stress of my first couple of weeks of classes and dodging Ataf's occasional attempts at uncovering my life story, I had desperately wanted to go into Solitude for a drink. I wasn't all that fond of the taste of mead, but I had discovered that you didn't care so much about the flavor after drinking a few mugs of it. Once dinner was finished and the last dregs of twilight had begun to bleed away into darkness, I had pulled on my heavy woolen cloak and made a beeline for the main gates.

Torches and lanterns filled the courtyards of the Bards College with soft light after sunset, so it was easy to navigate. Not that I couldn't have done it in the dark, but it's always preferable to have light when you can. In the flickering glow of the lights, something looked different about the main gate. It wasn't until I got close to it that I realized what it was. The gates were closed. A quick pull at the bars revealed that they were also locked tight. I had known that we weren't expected to go out into Solitude on weeknights, but during his orientation speech, Viarmo had phrased it as a "strong suggestion."

Looking at the lock with a wary eye, I could now see that "strong suggestion" was a euphemism for "locking us in."

Naturally, I could have picked the lock or scaled the wall. Given a choice between the two, I would have preferred to scale the wall; while I could pick simple locks pretty quickly, I just didn't have the fine manual dexterity to handle anything more complicated. I could also have just broken the lock off with a few well-placed swings of my collapsible mace, but I'm pretty sure someone would have noticed that.

Just as I was getting ready to scale the walls, I caught sight of a moving torch in the corner of my vision. I quickly ducked into the shadows and froze. As the torch-bearer came into view, I could see that it was Inge Six-Fingers, one of my instructors. She seemed vaguely bored as she patrolled the grounds, looking back and forth with less than total interest. She passed right by my hiding spot without seeing me at all, then continued on.

After she was gone, I could have scaled the wall and gone into town without being seen, but my time in the Brotherhood had made me too cautious for that. Knowing that they had grounds patrols made me wary. What else might they do to keep track of students? I knew that the staff could get into our rooms; the mysterious cleaning that happening while I was in class attested to that. Would they check on us at night? I thought that I slept lightly enough that I would notice that sort of thing, but there was always the chance that they had some other way of spying on us.

All of my assassin's training told me that I had to do real surveillance if I wanted to escape notice. Right now, the enemy had all of the advantages—home turf, numbers, civilian hostages…

That was when I realized that I was thinking about my teachers as "the enemy," and maybe I should just go back to my room and get some rest.

"This is just disgraceful," Ataf complained over breakfast the next morning. "How can they expect us to develop people skills if they just lock us in at night?"

At first, I was surprised to hear my roommate admitting that he had tried to sneak out in the night, but then I realized that he hadn't considered it "sneaking out" at all. He had just considered it normal to be able to go out on a weeknight, even when the teachers apparently didn't want us to. I still didn't want to admit my own interest in going out, so I just made a noncommittal questioning noise.

"You know you're not supposed to be spending nights on the town, right?" chided Jorn. "You should be focusing on your studies, not carousing."

"I wasn't going to 'carouse,'" Ataf groused. "One of my cousins is in town, and I just wanted to say hello." Ataf smiled crookedly. "Of course, if he had wanted to ply me with fine Imperial wine until the wee hours of the night, I certainly wouldn't have refused."

"Would this be your cousin who's in the wine shipping business?" Illdi teased.

"I can't believe that you would sneak off to get drunk during the first week of school," Aia sniffed imperiously. I took another mouthful of eggs to cover my own chagrin as she continued. "It's just disgraceful." I slunk down in my seat, doing my level best to disappear into the floor.

"I take it that locking the gates after dark isn't normal?" I asked, trying to cover my own embarrassment.

"Well, I don't know how it is in Windhelm," Aia commented loftily, "but Solitude is the safest city in the province. The presence of the Imperial army makes most people think twice about causing trouble, and that's before you take into account the Haafingar guards. They're the best-trained, best-equipped hold guards in Skyrim. That's on top of the city walls, which keep out anyone who isn't supposed to be here."

"I heard there was a serial killer loose in Windhelm," Jorn said with something like real nervousness.

"That's over now," I said before I could catch myself. The others looked at me curiously, hoping for the first real piece of gossip from my lips since we had met. I sighed at my own stupidity and continued. "I mean, I haven't been home in a few years, but I try to keep up with the news. They say that the Butcher finally bit off more than he could chew and one of his victims turned the tables on him. Turned out he was some shopkeeper who was into necromancy."

The others oohed and aahed over the juicy gossip while Ataf eyed me warily with a slight smile. When we left the dining hall, he fell behind with me while the others walked ahead to class.

"You haven't been home in years, but you're up to date on gossip that's only a month old," he mused.

"Don't start again, Ataf," I warned. "I haven't been home in three years because of the civil war. It doesn't mean that I'm deaf."

"But it does mean that you have some way of getting regular, reliable information from the rebel capital," he continued. "The Butcher's body was found near the end of Last Seed. I only know about it because my family still does business with the Shatter-Shields—and I only found out a couple of days ago. You sound like you've known for weeks."

I wheeled around and fixed him with an angry glare. I didn't like people prying into my life, maybe as a legacy of Nazir's repeatedly saying that siblings didn't pry into each other's lives from before the Brotherhood. Since I had joined the Dark Brotherhood at eleven, I didn't have much life before it—but at the same time, I couldn't talk about my life in the Brotherhood with civilians, which Ataf definitely qualified as.

"Sorry, Aventus," Ataf said sheepishly, taking my warning glare for what it was. I sighed as he turned away, a hurt look on his face. Ataf was one of those people that it was tough to stay angry at, and who you felt bad if you had to be angry at them for any length of time.

"I just…" I started. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Because of your scars?" he asked. "Like the old, twisted ones on your back."

I felt my blood chill. I had never talked to anyone about what had happened to me at Honorhall Orphanage—not even to my siblings in the Dark Brotherhood. It had been half a year in the deepest pits of hell. The scars on my stomach and arms were thin, pale things, remnants of training with knife-work or battles of various sorts. The ones on my back were from Honorhall, though. They were pale and distorted from my growth spurt, but they were the ones that had seen the least medical attention so they were the most obvious.

The mistress of the orphanage, Grelod the Kind, had been anything but her nickname. She had beaten the children under her care, chained us up in small rooms for days on end without food or water, half-starved us even on good days, and deprived us of even the most basic forms of human kindness. One of her favorite pastimes had been to whip us with thorn-covered branches while we did our chores. She said it was fine motivation to do the chores swiftly.

Even thinking about that old crone made me glad she was dead. My only regret was that I hadn't been the one to kill her. Something of my ferocity must have leaked through because Ataf laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed briefly.

"All I'm saying," he said kindly, "is that if you need someone to talk to, I can be a good listener too."

I nodded, not really understanding what he was getting at, but somehow grateful anyway.

The rest of the morning dragged, and I occasionally caught Ataf or Illdi sneaking glances at me during Professor Gemane's lecture on the origins of the modern musical notation system. Gemane was a compelling speaker and the material was fascinating, but I just couldn't seem to focus. Ataf's unusual offer kept coming back to me, and for the first time in a year or more, I kept thinking about Honorhall.

I had wondered occasionally over the years what had become of my friends from the orphanage. Runa, Samuel, Hroar… They had taken me into their confidence when I was nearly beaten to death by Grelod the Kind. They had been stealing food from her private pantry as well as stealing from the marketplace to supplement their diet, and they had shared their secret with me. I had resolved to escape Honorhall to save them as much as I had to save myself. When the Brotherhood adopted me, I had tried to convince Hecate to bring the other children in as well, but she had refused. Ever since, I had hoped that they had found their way to good families, but I had no way of knowing for sure.

Thinking about my orphan friends brought with it a sting of melancholy, but I was sure that they were fine now that Grelod was dead. Thinking about Honorhall itself, though… All day, ever since Ataf had brought it up, I had been brooding over the suffering I had seen and experienced in Riften. My months on the road after fleeing the orphanage had taught me about self-sufficiency; my time in the Brotherhood had taught me the power of family; but my time at Honorhall had taught me about the darkest pits of human suffering.

To say that it haunted me occasionally would be an understatement.

When we were finally dismissed for lunch, I rushed to get cold cuts and eat quickly so that I wouldn't be tempted to start talking to Ataf. There was something compelling about the young Redguard's offer that I couldn't seem to shake. The idea of being open with another human being—talking about my past, about my feelings—was somehow enthralling. It was so outside my frame of reference that it was like hearing about Cyrodiil or High Rock, or all those other exotic places that people visited but I had never seen. Except that this was a place that most people lived in, and I was the outsider.

I had barely finished my food when one of the school's docents—which I gathered was something like a teacher's assistant—came up to me to inform me that I had a guest waiting for me at the school entrance.

"Who is it?" I asked. I didn't really know anyone in Solitude, and it was far too soon for Hecate to be checking up on me again.

"I don't know, sir," the docent said. She pulled out a folded, sealed envelope and handed it to me. "She only said to give you this."

I turned away from the docent and opened the letter. All of my worries and fears fell away as I saw what was written within. Other people might have been afraid at the sign of the Black Hand, but for me it was a sign of family. Written beneath the black handprint were two simple words: "We're here."

I stuffed the letter in my pocket and raced toward the school entrance as fast as my feet could carry me.

By the time I got to the front gates, I could hear laughter coming from up ahead. I was surprised to see Pantea Ateia, my voice teacher, sitting on a stone bench with a handsome middle-aged Breton. The two of them were chatting amiably, with my professor tittering like a schoolgirl whenever her gentleman suitor said something particularly witty.

I scanned around, looking for whoever might have dropped the letter off, and nearly choked on my own spit when I realized that Pantea's "gentleman suitor" was actually Elbent, one of my brothers-in-arms. I hadn't recognized him right away because I wasn't used to seeing him clean-shaven and dressed in anything other than ratty peasant clothes. The Elbent sitting across from my teacher—and were they holding hands?—was dressed like a Breton noble, with his hair pulled back in a neat queue and his sideburns neatly groomed.

"Ah, there he is!" Elbent exclaimed in a smooth, cultured voice totally unlike his regular one, save for the slight grit at the back of his throat. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue this at a later time, my dear."

"Of course," Pantea said as she stood, her cheeks rosy and flushed. She touched my shoulder briefly as she walked back toward the school. "Your uncle is a charmer, dear," she giggled as she left.

"My uncle?" I asked as I walked toward Elbent.

"They don't let strangers check up on students," he growled in a voice much more like his normal one. "Someone had to come up here to get you, and I don't think they would have bought it if Garnag had come himself."

"Garnag's here too?" I asked excitedly. "Is there a mission on? Do you guys need my help?" I couldn't keep the hope out of my voice. Two weeks in the Bards College had made me stir-crazy in a way that I had never felt being cooped up in Sanctuary.

"Didn't you get Hecate's letter?" Elbent asked. I shook my head; as far as I knew, Hecate hadn't written me since I had come to school. I didn't mind, though. I knew she was busy. He sighed and continued, "Kid, there's no easy way to say this…"

"Don't call me kid," I said automatically.

"Sorry," Elbent said graciously enough. I was paying attention now; Elbent never apologized. "Look… We're getting sent to High Rock to reopen the Sanctuary at Wayrest."

"What?" I exclaimed dumbly. "You and Garnag?"

"Not just the two of us," he explained. "Anaril, Deesei, Geldii and Eiruki are going too. Six of us should be enough to get the Sanctuary off the ground. Seemed to work well enough for Dawnstar, after all."

"All the new recruits except for Vedave…" I mused.

"And didn't Anaril throw a fit about that," Elbent laughed. "I've heard Altmer be demanding, but I've never seen one on the verge of tears before."

"Eiruki is with you?" I blurted out before I could catch myself.

"Figured you'd ask about her," Elbent said with a smirk. I could feel my cheeks burning as Elbent chuckled. "But yes, we're all in Solitude for a few days, picking up supplies and resting from the road before making out final push into High Rock."

"How are you going to get across the border?" I asked.

"I know some back ways through the mountains around Jehenna," Elbent explained. "The city got annexed by Haafingar a few years back during one of the Imperial redistricting moves, but the civil war broke out not long after. Now, no one knows who should be patrolling what, so the whole area is wide open. There would probably be smugglers using the passes, but Solitude doesn't really need to smuggle supplies in."

"And High Rock is already a preferred trading partner, so it wouldn't be profitable the other way," I finished. Elbent looked at me with surprise. "Hey, I actually bother listening when Garnag talks about this sort of thing." Elbent's approving nod made me feel flushed with pride.

"Hecate was supposed to write you and let you know we would be coming through," Elbent finally continued.

"The letter was probably just delayed," I said, waving it off.

Honestly, I figured it was about even odds whether Hecate ever sent me a letter or not. I loved our Listener, but she could be pretty thoughtless at times—and she was genuinely quite busy. I was already starting to feel a churning sensation in my stomach, worrying that there was more to this sudden decision to reopen Wayrest Sanctuary than Elbent was saying. Still, I was so excited about the possibility of seeing my family again that I was willing to overlook nearly anything.

"Want to grab dinner with us tonight?" Elbent asked. "Garnag said you're probably feeling a little overwhelmed by all of this, and some friendly faces might help."

"I'd love to!" I exclaimed, then felt my face fall. "But it's a weeknight." Elbent looked confused, so I explained. "They've been locking the gates at night. I don't dare scale the walls. Someone might see, and Hecate was really firm about me not making anyone suspicious."

"Hmmm," Elbent mused. "Your pretty teacher there—what was her name?"

"You think Professor Ateia is pretty?" I said with disbelief. The older Nord woman wasn't bad-looking, I supposed, but I didn't think of her as "pretty."

"That's it," he continued, smiling to himself. "Pantea Ateia. Kind of rolls off the tongue…" He noticed me staring at him, then coughed and continued. "She said that the reason the gates were locked when I got here is that the college has had some break-ins lately. She assured me that it was in a part of the school that no students live in and that there was no danger."

"Robberies?" I asked, feeling a little silly for thinking that they had just been trying to lock us in. "Why don't they just get the city guard to patrol more instead of locking the place up like a vault?" Before Elbent could respond, I smacked myself in the forehead and answered my own question. "Because it would be bad for their reputation, of course."

"Of course," Elbent nodded. "It shouldn't matter, though. Pantea says that any student who wants to go out can just ask to be let out. You're not prisoners, after all."

I nodded, turning away from Elbent so that he couldn't see how red my face was turning. In all of my planning to get out of the Bards College, the one thing I had never even considered was just asking a teacher to let me out.

Professor Ateia was gracious about giving me an evening pass to leave campus to have dinner with my "uncle," seeing as he would only be in Solitude for the night. I explained to Ataf that I probably wouldn't be back until the morning, then quickly ducked out before he could ask me any questions. One of the docents followed me to the front gates with a key, letting me out and locking the gates behind me once I was gone.

And then I was free.

I would have to go back, of course, but I hadn't realized how caged I felt until I was outside the walls of the Bards College. While I had been stuck in Sanctuary for days or weeks on end with no work before, Hecate had always made it clear to me that the Black Door wasn't locked from our side. Short of shirking my few responsibilities, I was free to do as I pleased. A life of structure and rules wasn't something that sat well with me.

It wasn't hard to make my way through the streets of Solitude to the Winking Skeever, the inn that Brotherhood members stayed in whenever they came through this part of Skyrim. It wasn't the biggest or nicest inn in the city, but it asked the least questions and had a rowdy atmosphere that suited most assassins pretty well. It was a good place to get a room for a night or two, have some drinks, eat greasy tavern food, and blow a few septims from a job well done.

As I walked in the front doors in the dying autumn evening, Corpulus Vinius was behind the bar. His son Sorex was running drinks to the tables along with a trio of Nord serving women wearing clothes that were probably too low-cut to be comfortable outdoors at this time of year. One of them winked at me as I entered, so she was the one that I approached.

"Excuse me," I said as I sidled up to her, "but I'm looking for some friends of mine." I palmed a septim onto her serving tray as a sleight-of-hand trick, and she giggled. "A group of six or so. One of them is a big orc with one eye." When I mentioned who I was looking for, she stopped laughing and went pale.

"You've got some dangerous-looking friends," she said nervously. "They're in the back room. Got it rented out for the whole night." I nodded my thanks and headed that way.

The back room of the Winking Skeever was a dim affair normally, but it was lit up like the aurora when I stepped in. Dancing globes of magical light hung in the air, drifting to and fro as their makers reeled and drank. Garnag was sitting at the head of a long table covered in food, plates, and mugs of beer and mead. A pair of musicians were in the far corner of the room, playing a flute and drumming as Deesei and Elbent danced a merry jig. Anaril and Geldii were engaged in some sort of deep conversation while Eiruki sat at the far end of the table, watching the dancing over a mug.

The smile dropped off my face and I staggered a step as I set eyes on Eiruki. Her beautiful face was swollen and bruised, one of her eyes half-shut from what must have been a painful beating. When she lifted her mug to drink from it, I could see ugly black and red marks on her throat; some were fading to yellow already, but it was clear to me that someone had tried to strangle her—and recently.

I could feel my breathing go rough and my hands clenched. Those weren't the marks of a contract gone wrong. Targets didn't normally beat you savagely or choke you when they managed to turn the tables; stab wounds, slashes, and concussions were more likely, when such table-turning wasn't fatal. I knew who had done this. Those same hands had "taught me a lesson" only a few months before. It had been weeks before the bruises faded, even with the help of our resident alchemist and healer.

Right then, if Cicero had been standing in front of me, I would have gladly caved his head in.

"Aventus!" Garnag shouted, knocking me out of my reverie. Even with only one eye, the old orc was more perceptive than most people with two. The assembled assassins turned and shouted cheerfully as I walked up to my old partner and embraced him.

"It's good to see you, Garnag," I managed to force out around the lump in my throat. "I wish I could have had a little forewarning, though."

"It was sudden for us too, lad," he responded. "The Listener decided that the time had come to reopen a second Sanctuary, and well… You know how Hecate can be when she sets her mind on something." His tone made me hold my tongue until the others had finished their greetings.

As usual, Eiruki was the last to approach me. We stood at arm's length for a moment, looking at each other nervously, until finally she stepped forward and we embraced one another. I smiled at her when we finally stepped apart, not quite able to make it reach my eyes.

"I know I'm not as pretty as the last time you saw me," she whispered through bruised lips.

"You'll always be beautiful," I responded. She giggled and hugged me again. I couldn't deny that I had missed Eiruki in the last few weeks, though in a different way than the rest of my family. Once everyone had moved off to give the three of us some room, I looked at Garnag. "Cicero did this," I said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Garnag nodded. "It was Chickpea."

"And Hecate just let him get away with it, right?" I demanded angrily. "She sent all of you away rather than punish that gods damned fool."

"Stop right there," Garnag snarled. I paused, shocked. He had never spoken like that to me before. I sat down in the chair next to him and took the mug that he handed me. "I know you're mad," he said more softly, "but you need to step away from your anger." Eiruki sat down next to me and laid a gentle hand on my arm.

"Why are you defending him?" I asked Garnag. I turned to Eiruki. "And why aren't you mad?"

"I'm not defending his actions," Garnag insisted. "But Chickpea-" He paused and corrected himself. "Cicero is the Keeper. After the Night Mother and Hecate, he's the highest-ranking member of the Dark Brotherhood. He can interpret the Tenets in the absence of the Listener—and he decided that Eiruki had broken them."

"He's crazy, Garnag," I pleaded. "He's not responsible to make those kinds of decisions."

"He's the Keeper," Garnag responded simply. "He's not the same man I used to know in a lot of ways, but his devotion to the Brotherhood has never changed. And you need to remember that before you go flying off the handle about it. Eiruki wasn't seriously hurt, Hecate put some limits on Cicero's ability to punish infractions, and-"

"And she sent you away," I interrupted. I cast my eyes down and took a long pull off my mug. "Just like she sent me away."

"We're doing important work," he insisted. "The Black Hand needs to reach back across all of Tamriel if we're going to regain the respect we once had. Hell, she named me Speaker! I never once thought I'd see the day." He paused to take a long drink before continuing. "I may not like the way it all came to pass, but I'd be a poor assassin indeed if I wasn't able to see a good deal when it slapped me in the face. All of us will benefit from this in the long term, Aventus—even you."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But-"

"Can we not argue?" Eiruki asked. "We don't know when we're all going to be together again. Let's just enjoy the night." Her soft brown eyes held promises that I didn't know if I wanted to accept. I hesitated, and Garnag laughed and slapped me on the shoulder.

"Sounds like the two of you have some catching up of your own to do," he chuckled. "Go on. We have rooms upstairs. The two of you go and… talk… for a while. I'll be here all night." Before I could protest, Eiruki took my arm with a wicked smile and dragged me away from the old orc.

"Seems like we only get to be alone together when one of us is hurt," she breathed into my ear. "You get to be gentle with me this time."

Suddenly, I didn't care so much about anything else.

When I rejoined Garnag in the back room of the Winking Skeever, it was somewhere between midnight and morning. Only Elbent and Garnag were still awake, sitting together and drinking quietly as they talked. None of the others were anywhere to be seen; Eiruki was still in her room, sleeping comfortably, and I assumed the others had gone back to their own rooms to pass out.

"Finished… catching up?" Garnag asked, bringing a chuckle to Elbent's lips as well.

"Hand me that cup," I growled, ignoring his comment.

"I meant what I said earlier," he continued as he handed me a drink. "It's good to see you."

"You too, old friend," I smiled. Elbent coughed into his mug and I shot him a look.

"What am I?" he slurred drunkenly. "Chopped horker liver?"

"I already said it was good to see you, Elbent," I groused.

"When?" he asked, looking genuinely confused. Before I could open my mouth, he continued, "Oh yeah, when I was talking to your teacher about that fiddle that got stolen."

"Fiddle?" I asked. It was my turn to be confused.

"Some old lute got stolen from the college," he slurred. "S'why the place is locked up so tight."

"Wait," I asked, thinking about something Professor Gemaine had lectured about recently. "You don't mean Finn's lute, do you?"

"That was it!" Elben said, standing up with a broad smile. The smile didn't leave his face even as he slumped back down into his chair and passed out.

I frowned in thought. If Finn's lute had been stolen from the college, it was no wonder the teachers were so concerned about security. Finn was the first bard to use an eight-course lute, and his original instrument was virtually priceless. In fact, it was so valuable that it literally couldn't be sold without so many questions being raised that it was hardly worth it. Honestly, it had probably been picked up by random burglars who hadn't realized what it was they had taken.

"You've got that look on your face," Garnag said with a smile.

"What look?" I countered.

"The one that says you're so bored that you're thinking about playing hero just for something to do," he responded.

"It's not that I'm bored," I said instantly. "Well, not just that. I figure if I can get Finn's lute back, maybe the teachers will lay off on keeping the college locked up tighter than old Grelod's moneybox. Have time for one more job together?"

"Afraid not," Garnag said sadly. "I have to get this motley crew running up through the passes to High Rock as soon as possible, though I still think that we'll get more chances to partner up in the future. This isn't goodbye, Aventus. It's just 'until next time.'" At my sad expression, he leaned over and laid a hand on my shoulder. "I meant what I said before. I think that you could be one of the great assassins of the Era. You just need to get these foolish ideas of heroism out of your head."

"Thanks for the advice, Garnag," I muttered. Something in my voice must have moved him, because he finally sighed and spoke up.

"Look, before we leave, I'll have Elbent see if he can't find some information about the thieves," he allowed. "Would that make you happy?"

"Garnag," I replied, "you have no idea."

We spend the rest of the night chatting and drinking, leaving me to stumble back to the college just before sunrise and grab a couple of hours of sleep before rousting myself for morning classes. When I got up, there was a note on my desk from Ataf saying that he had found something waiting for me outside the door when he went out for breakfast. There was a sealed envelope that I had no doubt held information from our gruff Breton, and a single red mountain flower.

I breathed in its fragrance and thought of Eiruki. I wondered when I would see her again. I didn't have any illusions about our relationship. We were siblings in the Night Mother's service who sometimes found comfort in each other's arms. There was nothing more to it than that.

Still, it was nice to know that someone out there was thinking of me.

…to be continued…