“What are you doing here?”

11 hovers at the entrance to the chambers, one hand still on the door handle as if she can still close the door and walk away.

Aralyn puffs out her cheeks. “Really,” she says. “That’s the first thing you say to me?” She pats the bed again. “I just want to see you, since you obviously don’t have the courage to see me first.”

It is true, 11 feels ashamed to admit. Closing the door behind her, she makes her way around the bed to where Aralyn is sitting. She keeps her distance, even though she wants nothing more than to run in for a hug. But things change. Relationships are not written in contracts. People are not machines.

Even I’m different now. If a God Gier can change, then so can a half-elf.

11 sits next to Aralyn, keeping a respectable distance away. The sheets are soft, so is the mattress. A candle is already lit on the table and the curtains are drawn tightly. Aralyn is watching her with those purple, star-filled eyes, the same ones 11 loved to be lost in. But there’s something else besides stars inside them now. Something… more threatening.

11 clears her throat and says, “I was actually planning on finding you. I need your help on something.”

Aralyn flicks 11 on the forehead. “Your people skills are still laughably bad,” she says. “What makes you think you can just ask for my help, after what you did?”

“Because of what we had?” 11 offers.

“And that was?”

11 looks down at her hands, gripped together on her lap. “I’m not really sure. I don't think I knew how lucky I was to have met you. And now… now…”

“You realized what you lost,” says Aralyn, orange candlelight flickering onto her incisors as she smiles. “But hindsight is always perfect, isn't it.”

11 stares at the two icy stilettos stabbing out from full, red lips. Aralyn looks mostly the same. Her red hair has grown longer so strands of fire hang to her shoulders. Her eyes are still a galaxy of purple and her ears are still pointy and ridiculously attractive. But everything about her feels different now. The way she carries herself, the tone of her voice, the way she’s staring back…

As 11 studies the subtle changes in Aralyn, she hears Hikari’s words echo in her head.

I’m going to break your heart so you’ll remember what it’s like to have one…

And then it all makes sense. The power of her spells, the inability for 11 to sense her. It makes too much sense.

“Oh god, Aralyn.” 11 reaches over and grips the elf girl’s hands. They are dead cold. “Hikari found you, didn't she? What did she do to you? Tell me the truth.”

Aralyn looks at her, confused. “Hikari?” she asks. “Don’t you mean… wait a moment.” Her pretty eyes widen. “Kari said only her sister gets to call her by that name. Are you... that sister?!”

11 nods. A million questions ping around in her mind, but the one she wants to ask the most is, “Did she turn you?”

“Against you?” asks Aralyn. “She sure tried.” She gets up from the bed, pulling 11 with her. “Come, let’s get a drink. I’m getting famished, and I just so happen to have something Kari wanted me to pass on to you.”

“I can’t,” 11 says, feeling stupid she’s even thinking about turning down an invitation to spend more time with Aralyn. “We’ve been ordered to stay inside the Guild.”

Aralyn gives her a look. “Since when have you started following orders?”

The Lusty Boar inn is a cheap place visited by cheap people. Stuck on the edge between the north and eastern sectors, the inn is a tiny first-story wooden hovel with barely a porch or yard to speak of.

But despite its crooked sign welcoming any and all patrons, living or dead, the inn is lively. Because in order for the Boar to compete with the armful of inns scattered all over the city, it has developed quite a specialty that many of its competitors do not have.

Women.

11 keeps her eyes glued to her drink as half-naked serving girls strut about the place, their curvy bodies barely covered by the thin fabrics masquerading as clothing.

“Why’d you bring us here?” she whispers to Aralyn. “We stand out like garden gnomes in a football field.”

Aralyn grins cheekily over her ale. “Do you see anyone looking our way?” she asks. “Even if they do, they won’t admit it. Relax. I’ve been here often. No one asks or cares who you are. It’s one of the Lusty Boar's good qualities. And this place doesn’t have many of those.”

11 tries her best to look around but there’s nowhere to turn without getting an eyeful of flesh. Still, Aralyn is right. It’s clear why people come to this place. If anyone should say they saw 11 here, it’d mean outing themselves in the process. “I’m not even going to ask how you know this place,” she says.

“I have a feeling you won’t like the answer,” Aralyn answers.

They drink for a little while, until 11 can no longer stand the tension between them. She pushes her lukewarm ale to the side and asks, “Have you really come to see me?”

Aralyn is unsmiling as she answers, “My first plan was to find and kill you. I started taking commissions and talking to people in the local taverns and inns, and by the time the Knights of Kesrock requested my services, I already knew where you lived.”

11 swallows. "Oh," she says. "W-what uh, changed?"

Aralyn empties her ale and flags down a passing girl to order two glasses of wine.

“The usual?” the girl asks, batting eyelashes at her.

“Please,” Aralyn answers with a smile so confident it’s like looking at a different person. 11 studies the girl’s neck for bite marks. Two tiny bumps stand out against the girl’s smooth skin, invisible to anyone who doesn’t know where to look but obvious to anyone who is.

Once the serving girl is gone, Aralyn turns to gaze out at the men crowding around the tables. Some are throwing dice, others have girls on their laps. She isn’t smiling anymore but doesn’t look upset either. Just, distant.

“I saw you save that man in the arena,” she says, still without looking at 11. “I was in the crowds, waiting to ambush you. But after seeing what you did, it made me realize you might not be such a heartless wrench after all.”

11 is surprised at how much those words sting. “I guess I deserved that,” she says with a weak chuckle.

“You guess?”

“I… yea.”

Aralyn’s purple eyes slide over to find 11’s. For the first time since seeing her in this city, 11 notices that familiar twinge of warmth inside them.

“Do you still remember that night we first met?” Aralyn asks quietly. “There was a festival in Oakroot and we went together. Do you remember what you said to me as we were dancing in front of the bonfire?”

11 does remember. She's played that night over in her head too many times already. She opens her mouth to speak, to pour out everything in her heart to the only person in this world that may understand her.

The serving girl chooses this time to bring their wine. “Will you like anything else, my lady?” she asks, leaning down so her bare breasts hang in front of Aralyn’s face. 11 turns her burning face away.

“I’ll call for you when I do,” she hears Aralyn say. And when she looks up again, the girl is gone.

Aralyn sips her wine. She slides the other glass over to 11’s side of the table. “Try that,” she says. “You’ll like it.”

The wine smells fruity, similar to the strawberry wine Censa drinks all the time. The woman seemingly has an endless supply constantly being sent up to her chambers.11 drinks without tasting much. “It’s fine,” she says.

“I thought you’d be more excited to see me again,” Aralyn admits. “But you look miserable.”

11 sets the empty wineglass down on the table. It shatters when it touches the wood, glass splintering between her fingers. “I’m not miserable,” she says evenly. “I’m just... really pissed off.” She opens her hand and lets the glass pieces fall away to the floor. “I’m going to kill Hikari for this, for turning you into a monster like her.”

Aralyn’s eyes darken. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying it is wrong for me to want to be stronger?”

11 points to the serving girl, now standing on the other side of the inn. “I can see her bite marks, Aralyn.” She points to a different girl. “And hers.” Then another, and another. “Jesus, fuck. You’ve sucked off every one of them. If this is power, you have a twisted sense of it, girlfriend.”

Aralyn is standing now. Her face is eerily calm for what 11 is accusing her of. She downs the rest of her wine and reaches into a pocket on the inside of her cloak. It’s the same mint-colored one she wore on the day they first met, the same one she draped over 11 after she healed her injuries.

“You don’t get to call me that,” she says as she takes out a black cue ball. “I was wrong about you. I thought if I just gave you a chance to apologize, you would. But it seems like you’re still as blind to the feelings of other people as you were last summer. Still lost in your own world, inside your head.” She sets the cue ball down on the table, where it rolls along a grove in the wood and stops against the side of 11’s mug.

11 picks it up. It is heavy and cold, even though it’s been sitting next to Aralyn’s heart. She looks up to see the elf girl pulling her hood up over her ears.

“Wait, Aralyn,” she says. “What is this?”

“I wanted to believe in you,” says Aralyn, “and in the world you came from. But I can’t do that anymore. It's not wise for me to be around you, Munchkin, whoever you truly are.” She tosses a handful of silvers onto the table then turns to the exit. On the way she brushes past a serving girl, who immediately puts down what she’s carrying and follows her out of the inn, into the darkness outside.

When 11 climbs back through the window into her chambers, she finds Censa sitting by the desk and reading a book. She groans.

Hearing the sound, the woman closes her book and stands up, stretching her arms over her head. She’s wearing a provocative nightdress that is almost translucent under the light of the almost-gone candle.

“I know I wasn't supposed to leave,” 11 says, taking off her cloak and tossing it onto the rack by the door, where Censa’s own fur coat is hung. “But please don’t lecture me. I just got back from a horrendous date and the only thing I'm in the mood for is pudding and coffee. Two things this world doesn't have.”

“Hmm,” says Censa. “Alright then. I’ll let this one go, but insubordination at such an early time doesn’t bode well for when you become a captain.”

11 takes out the cue ball and shows it to Censa. “Do you know what this is?”

Censa takes one look at it and says, “A smoke bomb. You don’t plan on using it tomorrow, do you? Such a cheap tactic is unlike you, darling.”

11 tosses the bomb onto the bed and throws herself next to it. “Of fucking course. I should have known Hikari is behind Yu-chan's kidnapping. I should have known, god damn her!” She pulls a pillow over her face to muffle her screams.

The bed dips slightly as Censa sits close by. “The Mistress of Mischief has escaped.”

“Is that what you’re here to tell me?” 11 grumbles into the pillow. “Because that really doesn’t sound like my problem.”

“No,” says Censa. “I’m here to tell you that we’ve received a commission from your dwarf friend. He’s setting out north by dawn tomorrow and I believe he's already found two knight-turned-adventurers. They're going after your yaojin baker without you.”

“So what?” 11 asks. “I can rest easy knowing I’ve failed every single person that I’ve ever had a relationship with? He’s a week behind and traveling on horseback. I have wings, mind you.”

She feels the pillow being pulled away and lets Censa take it. She’s too tired to fight small battles.

“That is not true,” says the woman, leaning down to kiss 11 on the forehead. “You haven’t failed me.”

“Yet,” says 11.

Censa’s kiss trails from 11’s head to her brows, down to her nose to hover above her lips.

“Yet,” the woman agrees. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is quick, but her eyes look every bit as calculating.

“Your husband,” says 11. “Do you know who he is?”

“He won’t be jealous,” Censa answers. “Ned rarely has time away from the King’s side. He has more important matters to deal with than his wife’s needs.” The last word slips between Censa’s lips on grape-scented breath.

“Ah-ah,” 11 says, a palm against Censa’s shoulder to hold her back. “Before we go further, I need something from you.”

Censa smirks. “You dare ask things of me?”

“I need you to rig the tourney tomorrow so I face up against Bilae Austere of Preulle.”

Censa pulls back. “Who is he?” she asks, looking at 11 curiously. “And why does he matter?”

“Just do it,” says 11. “And I’ll add another year of servitude to you.” She stares up at the ceiling and waits for Censa’s reply. She expects the woman to question further, or start undressing her, or whatever else it is the Lady of the Guild tends to do, but Censa stands, gets her coat, and starts to leave. At the door, she turns back and says quietly to 11,

“For your sake, my darling, I hope you know what is truly important to you.”

11 watches from the corner of her eyes as Lady Thornrose leaves, pulling the oakwood door closed behind her. She then lies back down on the bed, arms spread. Her fingers brush against the cue ball. It’s still cold. She grabs it, pulls it to her chest and pretends it is Aralyn’s heart she’s holding on to.

“Me too, Dr. Oswald,” she whispers. “Me, too.”