She sat astride him, his manhood deep inside her, her hands braced on his chest, and when she looked down into his face, she still caught herself thinking about how her life had actually come to this point.

"Say it," Faustus gasped beneath her. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her deeper onto him. "Say you're sorry."

Valentina bit her lip and tried to concentrate on her role. The scent of violets mingled with the smell of sex and sweat as she moved up and down on him.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling – not with excitement, but with suppressed disgust.

"How ridiculous ," Vyxara muttered amusedly in her head. "He really wants a whole stage play from you."

"More," Faustus demanded, thrusting harder into her. "Tell me how sorry you are that you were always so cold to me."

Valentina closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I was... I was so cold to you. So unfair. I will make it up to you."

"Yes," he moaned. His movements became faster, more uncontrolled. "Say you love me."

Valentina flinched internally. "I love you," she lied and hated herself for it.

Faustus came with a strangled cry, his fingers digging painfully into her hips. Valentina felt him twitch inside her, his semen pouring into her. She waited until his grip loosened, then she rolled off him.

Several weeks had passed since their first encounter. Faustus had become a regular, visiting her twice a week. It had become a bizarre routine – he paid for her to pretend to be herself and she complied.

"Life writes the best comedies ," commented Vyxara dryly.

"I'll be right back," she mumbled, getting up from the bed, transforming 'back' into her Lily guise as she went to the dresser, where a wash bowl and clean cloths stood ready. With trembling hands, she cleaned herself. His semen ran down her thighs, sticky, mocking.

"You're doing very well," Vyxara said gently. "Always remember – you're in control. Not him."

"Come back to bed," Faustus said behind her. As always, his voice sounded different after sex than during it – softer, almost vulnerable. "We still have some time. Please. I brought you something."

Valentina turned around. Faustus was sitting naked on the edge of the bed, holding a small casket in his hands. He looked strangely lost, his usual arrogance wiped away.

She sat down next to him and he opened the box. It contained a delicate silver chain with an amethyst pendant.

"This is too much," she said quietly. It wasn't the first time, and the gifts became more and more precious the more he fell in love with the illusion he was buying.

"Nothing is too much for you." He placed the pendant around her neck, over the illusion artifact she wore as a necklace. "Thank you for being my Valentina, Lily."

The words hit her like a blow, this bizarre mixture of reality and illusion. She forced herself to smile. Then he leaned back, pulling her back onto the bed with him.

"You've been so tense lately," she said carefully and snuggled up to him – a calculated gesture. She wanted him to talk. "Is everything all right?"

His face darkened. He pulled her closer to him as if seeking comfort. "You're the only one who really understands me," he whispered into her hair, his voice broken.

"You can tell me everything," she said gently and felt him start to tremble.

"You know," he said quietly, "sometimes I wonder what it would have been like..."

"What do you mean?" Valentina asked cautiously. She sensed that he was in one of those raw, vulnerable moods.

"If I had treated her differently back then. The real Valentina, I mean." He swallowed hard. "The first time I saw her... she was sitting in Professor Emberfell's lecture, right at the front. Terribly poor clothes, more patches than dress really, but the pride in her bearing..." His voice softened. "She had this intense way of taking notes. As if every word was precious. She was always collecting scraps of parchment everywhere, for her notes."

"Who would have guessed," Vyxara scoffed. "He was already obsessed with you back then."

"What stopped you from being kind to her?" Valentina asked.

Faustus laughed bitterly. "My bloody pride. I'm a nobleman." He turned to the side, his eyes searching hers. "She's a peasant's daughter. And I... I'm the heir to House Boarfend. She should have begged to get on my good side. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

The pain in his voice sounded real. Valentina forced herself to reach out and touch his cheek. "You could try to make it up to her," she suggested carefully. "Talk to the real Valentina..."

"No!" He straightened up jerkily, panic in his eyes. "That would never work. Never."

"Why not?"

"You don't understand." He started to pace up and down the room, naked and vulnerable in the warm light of the Essence lamps. "I... I'm stuck now. The arrogant nobleman who hates her. Who wants to humiliate her. I... I've said things." He ran his trembling hands through his hair. "There's no way to walk that back without losing face. I can still hear my father's voice: 'A Boarfend never shows weakness.'"

He flinched as a loud moan came through the wall – from one of the other rooms, where Rose or maybe Violet was entertaining a customer.

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"Sometimes," he continued, "I imagine how it could have been. If I had offered her my help instead of mocking her. If I had become her friend instead of her enemy." He smiled a broken smile. "Maybe she would have even helped me with my studies. She helps a lot of people..."

"This just keeps getting better," commented Vyxara with amusement. "Now he's fantasizing about a friendship with you."

"The damage is done," Faustus said dully and dropped onto the bed. "Too many cruel words. Too many humiliations." He reached for the carafe of wine on the bedside table and took a deep sip straight from it. "Even if... no, she'll never forgive me. And the worst part is – I can't even blame her."

Valentina watched his hand tremble as he set the carafe back down. She thought of all the times he'd bullied her, the disgusting things he'd hurled at her, how he'd sabotaged her in the Greystone competition. And now he lay here, naked and vulnerable, confessing his remorse to an illusion that wasn't really an illusion at all.

"But here," he whispered and pulled her close to him, "here I can pretend that everything went differently. As if I hadn't ruined everything." His lips brushed her ear. "You're my Valentina. The Valentina I might have had if I hadn't been such a damn fool."

Valentina felt sick and yet she had to fight hard not to laugh mirthlessly. She was Valentina – the real Valentina – and at the same time the illusion of illusion he had created, that he loved.

"But that's not all, isn't it?" Valentina asked softly and snuggled up to him. She needed to know more. About his secrets. About the things he was hiding from the Illuminator.

Faustus sighed heavily, his breath warm against her neck. "What do you mean?"

"There's more," she whispered, "You seem so... scared. What's got you so worried?"

She felt him stiffen. "The Illuminator," he said tonelessly. "He... he's getting worse and worse. The searches, the interrogations..." He broke off.

"You can trust me. Obviously, we here at Violet Delights are no friends of these fanatics," she said gently.

He was silent for a long time.

"Careful ," Vyxara warned. "Let him talk of his own accord."

Faustus reached for the carafe of wine again and took another deep sip. It was almost empty by now.

"The Illuminator," he hesitantly said "I... I can't..." Faustus faltered, his voice barely more than a whisper. Then he laughed bitterly. "But what does it matter? You're the only one I can trust."

He sat up, the warm light from the Essence lamps casting dancing shadows on his bare skin. "I have something," he said in a hushed voice. "Something the Illuminator must never find."

Valentina felt her heart beat faster. "What kind of thing?"

"A powerful artifact." He leaned closer to her. "It... it can distort Essence patterns. Can make it impossible for other Essence Weavers to properly perceive Essence and their patterns. It can create difficult illusions."

"Where did you get something like that?" Valentina asked cautiously.

"From an old gardener." Faustus' eyes shone feverishly. "He works at the university. A strange fellow, but he knows things."

Valentina froze inside. If she wasn't mistaken, she knew that exact gardener – a quiet man with knowing eyes who had sometimes given her advice out there in the garden.

"It worked perfectly in the last round of the Greystone Competition," Faustus continued. "But then, in the tie-break..." He fell silent.

"What happened?"

"It... It no longer worked properly. As if it had suddenly developed a will of its own." He ran his trembling hands through his hair. "And now... Now I can't even get it out of the university. The Emberwardens are searching everyone who goes through the gates."

"Where is it now?" Valentina asked cautiously.

"Hidden." Faustus shook his head. "No, don't ask where. The less you know, the better."

"It's getting worse," he whispered. "The artifact... It's changing. Sometimes I hear it whispering. And the Essence patterns around it..." He swallowed hard. "They're getting more twisted. More corrupt."

"Interesting ," muttered Vyxara. "The Eye of Deceit is finally beginning to corrupt him. Very dangerous. If he's not careful, he'll lose his mind."

"The Illuminator is always conducting searches somewhere," Faustus continued. His voice sounded increasingly panicked. "I'm afraid they'll find it sooner or later. And then..." He broke off.

"What happens then?" asked Valentina, although she already suspected the answer.

"Execution," Faustus said tonelessly. "The pyre. That's how they treat anyone they find such artifacts on." His hands clawed at the sheets. "I can hardly sleep at night anymore. Every time I hear a sound, I think they've found it."

Valentina looked at him – naked, trembling, consumed by fear. All his arrogance was gone, replaced by naked panic. Part of her felt a certain satisfaction at seeing him like this. Another part...

"He doesn't deserve any better," Vyxara purred. "Remember how he treated you."

"I don't know what to do," whispered Faustus. Tears glistened in his eyes. "The Illuminator will find it. It's only a matter of time."

Valentina reached out and stroked his hair as gently as she could manage.

"Maybe," she said quietly, "you should destroy it. Before they can find it."

"No!" He shook his head vigorously. "No, I can't… I can't. It's too valuable. Too powerful." His voice became urgent. "You don't understand. With its help, I could... I could finally..."

He broke off, but Valentina could read the rest of the sentence in his eyes: Finally be as good as her. Finally impress his father. At last, no more failures.

The Essence bell in the room struck three times in quick succession.

"You should go," Valentina said gently. "We've already been together for longer than you agreed with Madame Dolorosa."

Faustus nodded wearily and got dressed. His hands were a bit sluggish as he fastened the buttons of his doublet.

At the door, he turned around once more. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For listening to me, Lily."

After he left, Valentina sat on the rumpled bed for a while and ordered her thoughts.

"So the Eye of Deceit is giving him a hard time," said Vyxara thoughtfully. "That explains a lot."

"And what about the gardener?" asked Valentina in her thoughts.

Vyxara remained silent.

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