Aela was keeping busy and I had enjoyed having lunch with her. She was done with my insanity for now, though she didn't put it quite that way. She wanted to stay in Bryn Shandor and help the people here to heal. It was a noble pursuit. I did not begrudge her it.

A spirit told me that a silver inlay on my rapier would help me against werewolves. It added, And undead.

I laughed and said, "Do you want to show me?"

It did. It slipped into me like air into my lungs. It felt as natural as breathing. The blacksmith let me use his tools while he worked on other things. He had so many orders for silvered weapons now that it was about all he was doing. Despite his own expertise, he was impressed that I seemed to know what I was doing. It wasn't me, but I thought it best not to mention that.

It said, We can put a design on the silver inlay. What shall it be?

I knew exactly what it ought to be. If a sword was a continuation of one's arm when someone was at their best as a fencer, so too should mine. I looked at the pattern of ink on my arm, and imagined how it would look going further, and the spirit showed me the rest.

The silver inlay was a curving sequence of silver along the blade, almost arcane in nature. What I could not mark on my own body, I could mark along the blade—What did I want?

I wanted to be strong enough to stand on my own. I wanted to learn how to do that, how to stand up for myself. But most importantly, I wanted to understand what it meant.

I wasn't ashamed of the tattoos, or that it had been done to me. Not even, exactly, that it was my master's name and tharch, as if to tell everyone where to return me if I were found. Some had been there so long, they were as much a part of me as my skin. I could no more imagine looking at myself and being without it as I could imagine my skin not being cherry red.

Thayan tattoos reflected many things; a wish for one's future, the story of their deeds, their life. Mine were what I could do, what my master wished of me. I had not had a choice in them, but who ever has a choice in where they came from? Who has a choice in what they are good at, what their talents are? I looked to the tattoos etched in my skin as my past and my abilities. There was no use in regrets or shame where that was concerned, but instead, I could look to my future, if not in ink on my skin, then in metal along my blade. I wanted to use my future to defend others. I could think of few better places for my dreams than on my sword.

It wasn't expert work, but it was mine. The blade no longer felt like something Taervelaine had discarded and given to me based on my appearance, but it felt like it was well and truly my own. I had only ever had so little, that meant more to me than I could express.

Coming back from the smithy, I spied a mock battle in the Gauntlet's barren training yard. I glanced at Reyne, wielding a tourney sword.

Reyne, kneeling before a priest of Bane. Head lowered, lips pressed to a signet ring. Blood dripped down a stone altar.

My elation at my own triumph made my crash all the harder as the vision filled me with anger, resentment. My own memories of Reyne kneeling, of his lips pressed against mine, suddenly hurt.

I stopped walking to watch, my fingers clenched in anger. How could you see the blood on the altar and do this? His cruelty angered me. I had always known he was cruel, that he liked to kill people. I hadn't understood how casual it was for him to take away a person's life.

My anger was in no small part directed at myself for every kiss, both times we got together, fueled my rage. The vilest part of who I was was that I always seemed the most attracted to the worst people.

Maybe some part of me actively looked for a boot to crawl under. If I could blame someone else for what I did, I didn't have to take responsibility. If someone else gave me an order, it meant someone else was in charge and I didn't have to think and plan and decide what to do.

Reyne knocked them back with the flat of the sword. They yielded and he grinned. The onlookers were delighted. Whispers of how good of a swordsman he was, how positive he made the Zhentarim look as he was training up new recruits and honing the skills of the older ones. Young kids, mostly boys, looked at him like he was a hero, and it infuriated me.

Reyne was as much of a monster as the werewolves were.

I called, "Reyne." He looked up. Sweat glistened on his brow. "How about a real fight."

He grinned. "Not worth me hurting you, tiefling."

"You won't," I snapped.

Reyne shrugged. "Give him a tourney sword."

I unbuckled my sword and dropped it with one of the waiting Gauntlets. Why were they so chummy with this mercenary anyway? I tested the tourney sword, nodded, and stalked to the circle center. Reyne exchanged the blunted two-handed sword for a sword and shield.

He preferred a two-handed sword. He was going easy on me. I seethed.

He paced toward me. "First knocked out of the circle loses. Or you can yield."

I nodded, fueled by my anger rather than my sense. I just wanted him to feel anything at all for the people he killed, for the bodies he raised as undead. And for me, if I lost, I viewed it as a punishment for my own transgressions. By having sex with someone terrible, I was in effect rewarding how awful he was; I wouldn't change him by getting into bed with him. He had to do that on his own.

Sex wasn't a reward though. It wasn't a prize. It wasn't magical, not exactly; it was just fun. But it shouldn't be with a monster.

At a whistle, we both moved. Feint. Duck. Spin. I leaped. My foot hit his shoulder and pushed off, up, flipped around behind him. Before he could meet me, I struck with the flat of the sword at his back. He grunted, but spun, bringing the shield up before I could strike again. My blunted tourney sword rebounded off the shield. My arm stung to my shoulder.

He wanted to be a painter.

He said, "You seem angry."

I hissed, "You killed people to become a paladin." It wasn't as simple as he had made it sound. It wasn't just a simple exchange of power for worship. It was power for blood sacrifices. Why had I ever thought otherwise? I always wanted to believe the best in people. Some cultists were just misguided. How could Reyne ever learn really important things like mercy, compassion, empathy—if no one had ever demonstrated it? If his cult snuffed it out.

It wasn't Reyne's fault that he didn't understand, but I could barely think past my own anger.

He cried when his parents took away his paintbrushes.

Reyne smirked. "They were set to die anyway."

He hit me with the flat of his sword on my hip, then swung at my legs. I blocked the second and knocked him back with the pommel, but he stayed within the circle. I said, "You sought Bane out. You lied to me."

Block. Parry. Thrust. I ducked, visions keeping me half a step ahead of him.

They stole his dreams.

"You're awfully naive."

I anticipated the kick and jumped up, landing a kick of my own to his shoulder. He stepped back to compensate for the push. His sword hit my leg. I landed badly, but it took Reyne, heavier than me, longer to recover. I swept his leg out from under him and he fell hard on his back. I lunged like a terrier on a rat, poised with the sword aimed toward his neck. It seemed like I had won, then someone whistled.

"Valac, you're out of the circle." I jerked, looking down. One of my feet was firmly planted just outside the chalked outline. I swore. She shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, those are the rules."

I stepped back and lowered the sword. "Not your fault." I hesitated, then reached a hand down to help Reyne up. He took my free hand. He was about as heavy as he looked and I braced myself to help him up.

She said, "Good show otherwise though. If not for that, I think you would've won. And Captain Andrews is one of the best swordsmen I've ever seen."

Cheap words when he had not even used his preferred weapon or fighting style.

Reyne smiled gently, giving a polite bow. I returned the gesture, storming away to replace the sword in the rack. By the time Reyne made it to me, I had calmed down. I swiped at my brow, taking a breath.

I said, "You handicapped yourself for that fight."

"You wouldn't have a chance if I didn't. I was just being practical."

Why was he always so infuriating? I said, "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Let me buy you a drink." I glanced at him, and hated myself for still wanting to kiss him. Desire is so rarely swayed by logic.

I told him where I was staying, and he said he'd drop by later.

On my way to the inn, a group of children were playing. Some were armed with stick as swords. A child said, "It's not fair. You always get to be Talia."

The girl planted her hands on her hips. "Well, I'll trade if I can be Reyne."

This started a flurry of complaints, where the child getting to play as Reyne tried to slink back awkwardly.

It was so strange to see kids reenacting things you had done. But of course kids wanted to reenact, especially such a major event they had all survived. They wanted to remember that it had been scary, but there had been heroes protecting the town.

The child saw me and his eyes went large as gold coins. I smiled and raised a finger to my lips. He was so stunned, I don't think he even noticed.

I ducked into an alley and took a back way to the inn. The encounter buoyed my spirits a bit, or would have, except for how they argued over who would get to play as Reyne. It troubled me that he was the way he was, and yet so many people still looked up to him.

I did not expect him to show. I wasn't sure how I felt when he did, halfway through my evening meal. Reyne just ordered an ale on my tab and sat down across from me with a stretch. He asked me about Malar, what I was doing there. I said I was leaving come morning to hunt the werewolves and the shadow of Malar. Telling him about it was part of my penance to him anyway, and I did not view it as information worth withholding. "Why are you still in Bryn Shandor?"

He said, "Lot of work for me here. Training new recruits. Building some repporte."

I made a face.

He shrugged. "Zhentarim are the largest mercenary company in the world, Valac. Everyone uses us."

I looked at him. "Would they if they knew about the Bane worship?" I kept my voice low.

He smiled sweetly. "At this point, they've no other options."

I stared down at the table. A barmaid took my empty plate. It wasn't his fault. If he was indoctrinated into it when he was young, if he felt like he had no other option, I could not blame him. I knew he hadn't wanted to be this. I knew he had been forced into it. For him, there really had not been another option. Why was I so judgmental? "I know you never had a choice. I should not judge you so harshly, I'm sorry."

Reyne sighed. "Do you, for even a moment, realize how condescending that is? As if I cannot make my own choices?"

I jerked, taken aback. "I'm sorry. I just thought—" I looked away. "I guess I do not understand. I don't actually understand why anyone worships the gods, except that they must." Especially after it had destroyed everything he had wanted in life.

He gestured toward my chest, the symbol of Asmodeus under my clothes. "Cheap words, considering."

I scowled. "I told you that was not my choice."

His eyes lingered on my collar. "No, I imagine it wasn't."

I snatched up my cup, found it almost empty. I set it down. I was going to ask for water, but Reyne plopped down silver and ordered another round.

After my mug was filled, he said, "You never worshiped Asmodeus?"
I stared at the contents of the mug. "I was made to. It wasn't genuine."

"Makes no difference."

I set the mug down on the table without drinking. Reyne had a habit of grating on my nerves every time I was trying to be kind to him. I thought, Reyne might be evil, but that was exactly why I needed to try to reach out to him. I didn't want to deconvert him. I just wanted him to understand that there were other paths he could walk. I don't think he had ever been presented with any other option. "Reyne. You're like a masterpiece that's been hung in a public privy."

Reyne chuckled. "How's Aela? You're not with her, so I assume you two had some falling out?"

"We're friends." I looked down. I didn't want to talk about how she'd hurt me.

He was quiet a moment. "You never told her?"

I sighed. "She's married to her church and her god, and every conversation I have with her turns to one or the other, and then I just get angry when she implies there's something wrong with me being a tiefling."

I was attracted to Aela, when I could get her to talk about anything but Ilmater or fixing me, anyway. And then she would ruin it by bringing up either topic, and my interest always kept dying. I felt better about my decision to leave her behind when I would hunt Malar. She should stay and do good here.

It kept me from caring too deeply for someone that didn't accept me as I am.

Reyne's eyes softened, just a little. "I'm sorry."

I looked up, not sure if he wasn't just saying the only natural thing to say in this situation. It was so hard to know, with Reyne, if he were sincere or not. "It wouldn't have worked anyway." I reached for my cup.

Reyne smirked. "A masterpiece, eh?"

My eyes flicked up.

#

He was more or less what I had been expecting. Not exactly selfish, but definitely not gentle or show me much regard.

He liked to be in control, and if I tried to take it from him, I was met with his anger. In fairness to him, I encouraged it. I could lift him, and when I liked, I could throw him down or push him against the wall, and he had to wrest control back from me. Pound for pound, I was shorter than he and a bit lighter, but not enough to make much difference; he had to work to pin me.

Reyne growled in my ear, "You undisciplined brat." He pinned me down, leveraging his weight against me. I could nearly match his strength, but he was taller, better trained. It was kind of exciting to be pinned down like this, with brute strength rather than fear and obedience. I knew that I had the option to hurt Reyne if I needed to, and that, to me, made a world of difference. His knee pressed into my back. My tail snaked to his waist. He bent down to part my ass for his wet and eager tongue. Anatomically, as my tail was an extension of my spine and my "tailbone", these types of positions were difficult. My tail wasn't prehensile and holding it back required constant tension of the muscle in that area, which was the opposite of what Reyne was trying to do, so he had to hold my tail to the side so I could relax.

We were still learning one another's bodies. It was my favorite part of a new sexual partner.

Reyne was invested in keeping me pinned down, but also in pleasuring me, which was downright alien.

It had always been about someone else. I hadn't even realized it could be about me.

Reyne had been oddly respectful about boundaries, which was also alien to me. He asked, "Valac. What do you want?"

I had assumed he would be mounting me, without discussion, because that was what I was accustomed to, what I thought he had been preparing me to take. It occurred to me that he had just enjoyed doing it. He had liked giving me pleasure, and it wasn't necessarily about preparing me to take him. I looked back at him. He was panting, and gorgeous, muscled like a statue. The size of him made my legs weak. I said, "Don't you want to top? Weren't you preparing me to take you?"

He squeezed my hip. "Not what I asked." He smiled, leaned over me. "What do you want?" His voice was low and husky, his eyes dark with lust.

My back arched, inviting. I was excited. Not just desirous, but genuinely excited. But what did I want? I couldn't remember ever being asked and it made me smile. He surely remembered how I had welcomed his fingers, and still he asked. And I thought, They keep calling him evil, but I don't see it right now. Or I was so used to a cruel, insensitive lover that Reyne, in comparison, seemed giving and kind.

"You. I want to bottom." Part of that was that anything else didn't really occur to me. Most of my other partners had only ever been oral or women, and the only man had been my master, and I had never had any options.

Reyne only grinned, delighted in his good fortune, and bent back to what he had been doing. Ultimately, he gave in to my begging.

His sizable member stretched my barely prepared ass, and I hadn't done this in so many months that I had a hard time of it. I had been too excited to want to wait any more.

His lips against my ear, tongue ran along the lobe. I squirmed, gasped, but he held me pinned against his chest. As he pressed in, it hurt. I could have told him to stop. I believed he would have. To someone else, that meant nothing; it was expected—to me, it meant everything.

He whispered, "You can take it, Val."

I shuddered, tension going out of me. I shivered as he plunged in deeper. "Yes, sir," I gasped.

He kissed my neck. "I told you it would be rough." He was barely moving, letting me get used to it.

I shuddered. "Don't stop."

He held me close.

It went on longer than I would have liked. Reyne might have been more communicative than what I was used to, was more focused on my enjoyment, but even that was about his own pleasure. He enjoyed it more when I was enthused.

I should have said something. Been blunt, told him I was done sooner, but in the heat of the moment, it felt good and I enjoyed it. Or I had been trained entirely too well to never voice my discomfort and always to please my partner. I didn't have to do that any more, but it was hard to unlearn that.

Why was I always drawn to these kinds of arrogant men?

Maybe because it was what I was used to. What I thought I deserved.

The women I liked tended to use me in a similar way, but it was never as notable, maybe because I felt less used at the end of it. They at least pretended to care during the act.

He was slick with sweat. I panted. We never kissed. I shoved him bodily off of me.

I said, "Hells. I should've remembered I have to spend all day in the saddle tomorrow." I glanced at him. "And you could've been gentler."

He chuckled and tilted his head. "You didn't seem to hate it." He lifted a hand. "If I hurt you, I'll heal it."

I flinched and pulled away. It was how I was trained. Almost all I knew of that kind of sex was pain. But I knew he could have been more gentle and it would have cost him nothing.

I raised a hand to cover my face. "Reyne. My master took me as a lover years ago. Of course I learned to just take whatever my partner gave."

He was quiet a moment. "I would not have thought you'd admit to being raped to a casual sex partner."

My hand fell away. "It wasn't—" My jaw clenched. I stared at the ceiling, hurting and wanting to scream for my frustration. "That's just not true. I was around twenty—I wasn't inexperienced. I had to seduce him. He warned me that…" I sighed. "He had a right to be cruel, Reyne. He wasn't as cruel as he had a right to be."

Reyne seemed to struggle, this very conversation at odds with his personality. He rubbed his temples. "And once he started hurting you, did he give you an option to refuse? If you can't refuse, you can't consent to what he did."

I shook my head. "He treated me better after that started. And some of it was even fun." The truth was that the situation was more complicated than I was alluding to, but a lot of it was wrapped up in my head and I didn't know how to express it.

"Valac. He welded adamantine around your neck. He permanently marred your skin. Your face."

I flinched and looked away. My voice was quiet. "He had every right to treat me far worse."

On my master's side of things, he respected his wife enough to consider her wishes that he not visit brothels or sire illegitimate children, and she disliked much of what he was interested in. I was conveniently at hand most of the time; it wasn't more complicated than that.

Reyne's position felt unspeakably cheap, coming from a paladin of Bane. But Reyne wasn't his god.

Reyne hesitated, then his fingertips touched my arm. "Valac."

My heart lodged in my throat. "You can have the room. I'll go." I started to get up.

He put a hand on my tail, preventing me. "Lay down. Get some sleep. I'm not that selfish a lover."

He was though. He wanted me there when he woke so he could entice me again for sex.

I said, "I'll sleep better alone."

His hand lifted from my tail, but he said, "It's not really about quality of sleep, Valac."

I would not be able to sleep in a bed with him and there wasn't a lot of floor space in this room. Even if I were comfortable admitting to him that I slept on the floor by choice even now. "I'm not interested in having sex in the morning," I said blandly. "I'll be sore."

I expected him to smirk at my last comment, which had been made to distract him from the meaning behind the first. "I want you to stay the night because I feel like I should at least get you breakfast in the morning."

My tail flicked as I stood up. I had no witty retort or commentary. My life before had not prepared me to know anything about relationships. But I knew I wanted better than some worshiper of Bane. The first person I chose to sleep beside I hoped was better than Reyne.