After a short flight, the mansion loomed back into view, ostentatious watchtowers and walled courtyard at home among the other extravagant estates, manors, and palaces in Precinct One. He climbed higher, eying his objective on the third floor. The windows were closed, and the ledge looked just large enough to land on - a promising start. However, given his history with Catalina, Mav knew it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.

Taking a moment, he visualized a flightpath that hid him from the gate and tower guards, and most importantly, from anyone looking out the windows. Remembering his dive training, he tucked his arms firmly into his sides to reduce drag. Mav exhaled sharply in preparation, plummeting headlong towards the stone wall.

At the last possible moment he threw his arms back and kicked his legs forward, keeping his knees loose as he landed with practiced grace outside the tall, rectangular window. Pausing to catch his breath after the exhilarating dive, he admired the design of the glass. The top of the frame arched into a point, the whole window pivoting open at a horizontal midpoint. Several large circles blown in rippled swirls decorated the opaque glass, allowing those inside the room to see a bit of the outside world while completely obscuring them to those outside.

Mav didn’t like his 'plan,' if it could be called that, but couldn’t think of a better option. There’s no time. He knocked on the window and waited, ears straining for any sound in the room beyond.

At first, everything was still, the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears. Then he heard faint footfalls moving away, deeper into the room. They stopped, and he heard a warm scratch of wood against wood, like a drawer sliding opening. After a rustle of fabric, footsteps strode back toward the window.

With the tension of a drawn bow, Mav braced himself against the stone, watching the glass panes as he waited for the occupant to arrive and open the window. A quiet knock reached his ears instead, the cadence irregular, but familiar.

An Orzhov signal knock. The sentinel thought back to his Legion training, recalling the few knock signals he learned. This one sounded like the pattern for ‘Who goes there?’

Woulda been nice if they taught us more responses than ‘Open up in the name of the law.’ With limited options, Mav settled on a simple ‘It’s me.’ He knocked heavily and impatiently, hoping she would let him in.

Silence reigned for several heartbeats, then with a sudden squeak, the bottom of the window swung toward him. Mav heard a brief whooshing sound, too late to move aside. A dart sank into him, punching a hole through his boot, piercing all the way through his foot before lodging firmly in the sole. Wincing in pain and aggravation, he swore under his breath. As he inhaled, the familiar burn of poison began searing through his foot.

Kicking off the window sill, he flew to the top where a gap opened as the bottom of the window swung outward. Flying inside, he dropped like a rock, landing atop the hooded figure at the window. Together, they fell to the carpeted floor.

The lithe, strong body under Mav twisted, pushing him aside and leaping on top of him, long well-shaped thighs straddling his hips. She squeezed his sides with her legs, pinning him to the floor. Her dark cloak and hood obscured most of her figure, shrouding her face in shadow, but he could still make out her defiant pointed chin and lush cherry-red lips.

Catalina planted one hand firmly on his chest, and for a moment he lay there, appreciating this unexpected position, her body warm and pleasantly heavy. Then her other hand closed on his throat, squeezing a little too tightly and Mav snapped back to reality. He bucked his hips, unbalancing her with his larger, more muscular body. Twisting around, he slammed an elbow into her solar plexus, careful not to hit her full-force.

She gasped for breath and fell sideways. Scrambling over her, Mav pinned her to the floor with the weight of his body. Beneath him, he felt her shoulder move as she reached for another dart. Biting back the urge to swear again, Mav grimaced, the poison from his foot pulsing up to his knee.

He didn’t relish the idea of yet another run-in with her damned darts. Pushing her arm to the floor, he pinned it firmly in place with his own, resting his weight on her, his other arm across her collarbone. She glared up at him, her beautiful chocolate eyes narrowed, dark hair framing her pale face. Then her teeth bared in a smile, fierce and terrifying.

The challenge on her face was unmistakable. No one would interrupt their fight this time.

She began to twist away from him on the floor, her gaze locked with his. He held firm, making sure to keep her dart arm immobilized, trusting his weight would be enough to hold the rest of her still. Please stop. He wanted to know which of them would win this fight just as badly as she did. Unfortunately, this wasn't the time; he was here to talk.

Looking down at her, he tried to think of what to say to defuse the fight. As he hesitated, a glint of madness grew in her eyes as she strained against him. Her shoulder twisted unnaturally as she fought the physics of her own body. Continuing to twist against his pin, her shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop.

Mav released her, horrified. Swiftly, she continued twisting onto her stomach, using her powerful legs to shove away from him. As he pulled back, she stood, her wings unfurling in his face, shoving him back further. Spinning on her toes, she dropped into a defensive stance, ready to continue the fight.

Recovering his balance, Mav visually assessed her shoulder. Her right arm hung limp at her side, the angle unnatural and deformed. He'd seen a few dislocations, and this one looked bad.

Grimacing, she readied another dart and a jolt of anger shot through him at her stubbornness. Mav gritted his teeth and dove for her again. He called on everything he learned in Skyknight training to use his force and momentum, angling his body just right. Closing the gap, he grabbed her right arm, lifting the bones into place. A split-second later, his chest connected with her shoulder, snapping her arm into place. Moving in time with him, she brought her dart down, driving it deep into his thigh.

Teeth gritted against the pain, Mav wrapped his arms around her tightly, pinning her right arm between them and holding onto her left arm, trying to angle his body so she couldn’t stab him in the groin. Glancing up at her face, he met vulnerability and confusion there instead of her usual haughty disdain. Am I finally getting through to her? Mav relaxed slightly, relieved. Then he saw her wing angling toward his head with walloping force.

Rak. Glaring at her, Mav ducked without releasing his grip on her torso, her wing narrowly missing his head. He adjusted his grip so he held her just below the ribs. Lifting, her feet came off the floor and she began to struggle, flapping her wings to buffet him.

“Hold still, dammit! I just want to talk,” Mav growled, keeping his head low. She didn’t reply, just glared at him and continued struggling.

He had to trust her; maybe she would listen to reason or at least accept the cease-fire. Seizing the darts from her belt as insurance, he let go. She hesitated, then seized the opportunity to fly up to the high vaulted ceiling.

Mav watched, eyes narrowed against the current of wind from her wings as she flew to the far side of the lavishly decorated room. She dove toward an alcove, separated from the main chamber by pillars. Beyond the smooth stone columns, he could make out a large rumpled bed and clothing strewn across the messy floor. Landing gracefully, she locked eyes with him again.

Dropping her darts, Mav plucked his dagger from his belt, holding it loosely. He made no other move toward offense or defense. She backed toward the pillars and reached around the side of the wall, fiddling with something he couldn’t see. After a moment, he heard a drawer open, and she groped for something, finally breaking eye contact with a huff of frustration. Probably more darts. I’m only half a pin-cushion so far.

Turning back to him with her prize, smile triumphant, she showily tossed a dagger back and forth between her hands. Mav swallowed hard, assessing her knife-fighter’s stance, recalling the last time he saw that knife in her hands.

His wounds throbbed in time with his rapid heartbeats, the burn of poison from her darts creeping steadily toward his heart. Taking advantage of the lull, he fished a vial of anti-toxin out of his belt pouch and drank it, the magicked liquid searing his throat. Her blade is probably poisoned, too.

Returning the empty vial to his pouch, he retrieved a wad of medicinal herbs from his medkit. Without breaking eye contact, he yanked the dart from his thigh. Dropping the dart, he packed the herbs into the deep puncture in his leg, knowing it would stem the flow of blood. His foot would have to wait. She bit her lower lip as she watched him, and he struggled to focus as he considered biting her lip, too.

“What’s the matter, you afraid?” she taunted, her voice low and husky. She laughed, and continued tossing the knife back and forth rhythmically, her motions smooth and sure.

Mav stood a little taller and rolled his eyes. “‘Course not, but I came to talk, not fight.”

Her posture, the look on her face, and the bare steel in her hands made him nervous. Every muscle screamed to fight, to take the knife, to win. Steeling himself, he didn’t move, counting his breaths and feeling the weight of his dagger in his hand. He kept his touch light, his fingers carefully balanced to either grip or throw at a moment’s notice. He’d be lucky to get even that much warning before she attacked.

Licking her lips, she looked him up and down, beautiful brown eyes filled with speculation. “Well now that you’re here, you’re not leaving until I say so,” she announced.

Mav stood rooted to the spot, watching with a growing sense of doom as she pulled a small concealed lever on the wall beside her. Muffled rumbling reverberated through the floor beneath their feet. Within moments, metal shutters closed over the windows and doors, shrouding the room in darkness and cutting off all avenues of escape.

Eyes adjusting to the dim light of the few candles and a single brazier between the windows, Mav kept his gaze fixed on her. He wanted to look for another exit, but he knew his window of opportunity already closed.

The shadows in the room danced and Catalina sidestepped right, eying him hungrily, like a caracal watching a mouse. He needed to get the knife away from her. She might just ravish him, but he wanted to be the one doing the ravishing if it came to that. He enjoyed painshows, but not that much. Given her unpredictable nature, she’d just as likely kill him to resurrect as her eternal slave or some Orzhov bullshit. No way. She wants to fight dirty? Fine.

“Drop it,” he commanded, threading magic through his voice and compelling her to obey.

She complied, the dagger falling to the floor with a thump. Mav watched the play of emotions across her face with satisfaction. Her shock quickly faded, and her eyes narrowed, pretty face filling with rage as she realized his magical compulsion.

That might have made things worse, he realized, heart sinking. Mav darted to her side, retrieving the fallen dagger before she could recover it. He threw it into the wall above the alcove. Out of the way, out of her hands, but still in her possession.

Now that he stood beside her, he hesitated, uncertain. She glared at him. Gingerly, he reached out to touch her recently-dislocated shoulder, muttering a healing word under his breath and pushing mana through his hand into her shoulder, knitting torn muscle and tendon. She would still be sore, he knew, but there shouldn’t be lasting damage.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice quiet.

Catalina stared at him, her eyes clouding with confusion before she recovered herself. Scoffing, she recoiled from his touch.

“Are you suggesting you could have hurt me?” she asked, her eyes filled with challenge and contempt.

So much for trying to be nice. Mav felt his own temper rise at her rude response and tone. He scoffed in return, competitive nature getting the better of him.

“I chose not to hurt you, and you shouldn’t hurt yourself,” he responded gruffly, guarding his expression to hide how much her self-harm troubled him.

She grinned slyly. “It’s not myself I hurt,” she crowed, delighting in the amount of pain she’d caused him. Her eyes raked over him, pausing on all the places she’d hit him recently, taking a mental accounting of her ‘victories’ and points scored.

“You might not have come to fight,” she continued, her voice lowering to a menacing growl, “but I don’t tolerate strangers trespassing into my private property.”

Mav snorted. “You think I work alone?” He refused to admit she had a point. He didn’t consider this might be her bedroom when he and Lilla formulated this plan. He assumed it was a storage room or armory where she kept her gear. Stifling the surge of guilt at their bold intrusion of her privacy, he growled, “That was someone else.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, so you had someone else do it for you?” she asked mockingly. “Are you not a big enough man to search my room yourself?”

Mav gritted his teeth, his jaw muscles flexing as he tried not to fall for her taunting. “No, I was busy talking to your father,” he retorted, hoping that at least would change the subject. He straightened his spine, trying to focus on his mission.

She batted her eyelashes at him, deflating his military training faster than anything else could have.

“Oh, trying to get daddy’s approval?” she cooed slyly, snaking an arm around his waist and squeezing his butt firmly. She yanked him against her, their bodies colliding yet again. This time, without weapons involved, he could enjoy the heat of her body as she held his hips tightly against hers. He breathed in her scent, earthen and musky.

“When’s the date?” she asked breathily, teasingly, staring into his eyes. She blinked slowly, looking up at him through her lashes. His mind suddenly blank, Mav tried to figure out what she was talking about, captivated. He came up empty. Maybe if I ignore it, she’ll forget about it.

His hands moved to her waist, feeling the curve of her hips and lean muscles as she stood in front of him. She reciprocated, placing a hand on his side, not releasing her grip on his butt. She pulled him closer, inhaling, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she smelled him. He found himself unconsciously following suit.

She pulled him toward the alcove; toward the bed. Mav followed, reluctant, but unable to resist. At the last moment, he collected enough willpower to steer her into one of the pillars, pinning her against it with his body. He’d be lost if she got him into the bed.

She made a small sound of surprise, then arched her back, butt and shoulders pressed into the column, wantonly pressing her breasts upward for his attention. She arched her neck as well, exposing it and looking up at him expectantly. When he didn’t move, she bit her lower lip again, fluttering her lashes.

Mav groaned and leaned into her, the feel of her body along his stoking a fire within him. He nibbled her exposed ear, enjoying the small shudders she rewarded him with, like the aftershocks of a quake. Her breathing thickened, and she began scrambling with the buckles on his armor. He could feel the heat of her core against his thigh. His hands on her hips unconsciously guided her against him in a steady rhythm. She felt amazing. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, tongue darting out to taste her neck.

She tasted wrong, the salt of her sweat different. Like a shock of cold water, he remembered the shape of the woman he wanted in his life. Her neck was the one he wanted to be kissing, tasting. He wanted her petite body going wild against him. Using all his willpower, he shoved himself away from Catalina.

“This is wrong,” he panted, looking around for anything to distract himself from the naked desire in her eyes. He spotted the dagger from his belt on the ground. She’d relieved him of it during their moment of passion. The whole thing was just a trap, he realized, the fire in his blood cooling.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, following him and tracing her fingers across his chest where she’d opened his armor. A pit opened in his stomach as he remembered another woman lying atop him, his shirt wet with her tears as she traced patterns on his chest. As she’d traced ‘Mrs. Viktorr’ on his chest. Rak.

Catalina looked him up and down and giggled suddenly. “Is this your first time?” she asked, her eyes wide with feigned innocence.

It felt like a one-two punch to the gut. “Of course not,” he growled, scowling at her. “This isn’t right,” he repeated.

“What isn’t right about it?” she asked, indulging him as she continued to run her hands along his chest. He pushed her away as a premonition flashed across his mind: Catalina standing over his lover’s corpse, a knife in her hands, dripping with blood.

“I came to talk business,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“There will be time to talk later,” Catalina purred, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

“I don’t mix work and pleasure,” he said firmly.

“Well then,” she drawled coyly, “you must have come here because you want something from me.” She moved toward him again as she spoke, and hooked her fingers into his belt. He swallowed hard, trying not to think about how much he did want her. Why can I never control myself when this woman is around? But he had to. He was a soldier; he had orders.

Frowning, Mav stepped back, pushing her hands off his belt. “You know I have orders to kill you on sight, right?”

Catalina frowned too. Petulantly. “I could kill you, too. In fact, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead,” she bragged, sulking. “Daddy will do anything I ask. Making you disappear is as easy as ordering toast for breakfast.”

Mav snorted. “Is that why you get out so much?” he quipped, not caring anymore if it stoked her deadly anger. Angry was better than sexy.

Anger flashed across her face as his barb hit home. “When and why I go out is my own business. What I want to know is why you sent your toadies to rummage through my things!” Her voice rose as she spoke, shouting the last few words.

Mav crossed his arms. Finally, to the heart of why he was here.

“Catalina, you’re being too cavalier. You aren’t taking this seriously enough. I was ordered here to investigate evidence other Legionnaires collected. You have to know your father is a prime suspect and someone will find you here. You know I’m under orders to kill you.” He paused, taking in her stony expression. “I think there’s a better way: help me fight the Neonates.”

She looked at him, silent for a long moment. “Is that a threat?” she hissed, and he sighed.

“No. Just the facts. There are lives at stake.” He hoped his words would reach her, so his arrows didn’t have to.

She crossed her arms, mirroring his posture. He couldn’t tell if she did it on purpose. “There ‘s more at stake than a few petty lives,” she countered. “What do you want from me?”

“I want your help fighting the Neonates.”

“What do I get in return?” she asked sassily, going on before he could answer. “I get to help you fight the Neonates and come back with a bounty still on my head, while you’re paraded in the streets, heralded by your adoring fans and get all the glory. All men are the same,” she scoffed, curling her lip as she looked him over.

“It’s not about glory,” Mav bit out, his own anger at the forefront now. He hoped she would know him better by now. “I don’t care about parades. I do this to protect people. Killing you is not the best way to do that. You’re a skilled fighter, and I think underneath everything you might have a good heart. I want your help.”