Vencian opened his mouth with the start of an excuse before he saw her face properly.

The words dried up.

It was Roselys.

Her cheeks were red. It was the sort of color that suggested heat even if he couldn't feel it. A few strands of silver hair had slipped from under her hat. Her eyes took him in with a flatness that made his ribs tighten.

He raised a hand in a half-formed gesture of explanation.

She slapped him.

His head jerked to the side. A sting spread across his cheek. He wondered if hers were still warm or if the slap had cooled them. His own cheek felt warm now too, at least partly.

Roselys let her hand fall back to her side. She held her chin high, as if that slap had been a necessary step to restore her honor.

"Explain," she said. Her voice carried none of the heat on her face.

Vencian straightened. He let out a slow breath and settled on the simplest version that still counted as an answer.

"It wasn't what it looked like. I was avoiding someone. I used you to block their line of sight. The closer I got, the safer it looked. That was the only reason I pulled you in."

He kept his tone flat.

"They walked past once they saw us. That's all it was."

He didn't add the rest.

How her body hid half his frame. How her lowered tilted hat made her nearly unrecognizable. How pressing close created the kind of scene most people avoided staring at. It worked fast. From what he can tell, his pursuers looked away and moved on too.

He raised his hands slightly.

"I didn't have another option."

He kept it vague. She caught it at once.

Her stare didn't change.

"You expect me to believe that."

"I expect you to accept it," Vencian said. "Belief is optional."

She held his gaze for a beat. Then she exhaled once through her nose.

"Fine," she said. "In that case you can answer my question. Why are you here."

He shook his head.

"You didn't ask a question."

"I did. Just now."

"And I answered first," he said. "So it's my turn. What are you doing in this district."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You think that counts as taking turns."

"It does to me," he said, feeling a flick of irritation.

Her eyes dropped to the street behind him. "If you want to know, you can come with me."

She turned.

He called after her.

"I spoke with your father."

Roselys didn't slow.

"I assumed you would."

"He asked me to stay away from you."

Still nothing beyond that faint tilt of her head.

"I agreed," Vencian said.

That brought her around. Her expression carried no visible emotion.

"Is that your answer to my proposal?"

"I didn't say that," Vencian said.

Shock lifted her eyebrows.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I said I agreed to stay away from you," he said. "But that doesn't stop us from helping each other. There are ways to work together without sharing space all the time."

He left it there. His hands had drifted in an awkward, unhelpful gesture. His eyes didn't know where to settle.

She watched him carefully.

"So something changed your mind."

He shrugged.

"You were too convincing."

She rolled her eyes.

"That isn't an answer."

"Well, then let's just say I don't want to live in ignorance just like how you mentioned during our first meeting." He said nothing further. He had no intention of explaining that Quenya's sense of danger clung to Roselys like smoke.

Roselys adjusted her hat.

"Come with me then. You can decide whether this counts as staying away."

He followed. He tugged his cap lower to hide his hair. The disguise felt thin, but acceptable.

"Where exactly are we going," he said after a moment.

She glanced over her shoulder.

"Was that confession earlier only bait to make me talk."

"No," he said. "Well... partly."

Roselys stopped. The smallest twitch moved her mouth. She resumed walking without comment.

She waited until they reached the busier street.

"When we were attacked in Coriel," she said, "I have wondered whether we were only unlucky. Wrong place. Wrong time. That sort of thing."

"Or something more," Vencian said.

She nodded once.

"I think the timings look to far-fetched to be just a coincidence. I came to meet the person who gave me that intelligence."

"Your source."

"Partly," she said. "He provided the Coriel details. I want to see what else he knows."

Vencian fell in beside her again.

"But why care about it," he said. "You already have enough on your hands. Those villagers had nothing to do with you."

Roselys lifted her chin a fraction.

"A whole village was annihilated. I suppose that's reason enough."

He let the words settle. They landed heavier than he expected.

He found himself thinking back to why she was even at the academy in the first place. She chased the death of her mentor with the kind of focus most people reserved for family. He assumed it came from devotion. Now he wasn't sure that explained it.

Maybe this was what she did.

Sticking her nose into places that didn't invite her. Driven by curiosity or a sharp sense of justice or something else entirely. He couldn't decide which.

He also didn't want to.

Whatever she was, his place in her orbit stayed simple. Information. Nothing more.

He couldn't afford to let it stretch past that.

Vencian eased his steps back. He chose a distance that looked casual. He tugged his cap lower, shifted slightly to the opposite side of the street, and established a parallel route beside hers.

Quenya's voice brushed against his thoughts.

"So we're eavesdropping for the third time today. Maybe I wasn't joking. You really might become Vencian the Voyeur."

Vencian adjusted his cap.

"You act like I'm the only one doing it. You're my partner in crime here."

She sputtered in his mind.

"I'm assisting. That's different."

"Partner in crime," he repeated.

A sharp grumble followed.

"Unfair."

Roselys turned into a modest tea house tucked between a spice stall and a tailor's shop. Its front windows were fogged from the steam inside. Customers sat close but kept their voices low enough for privacy. A good place for dangerous talk.

Vencian didn't hide. He made himself visible at the stall beside it, lifting fabric samples and price tags with the slow interest of someone comparing costs.

Roselys took a seat near the back. Clever placement. She could see Vencian through the window. He could see her. The incoming contact would see only her.

He kept to his role. His fingers brushed shirts he had no intention of buying. His eyes stayed on the reflections in the window.

Roselys lowered her gaze to the table surface. Her posture relaxed just enough to look natural. Not relaxed enough to be careless.

The doorbell chimed.

A man entered the tea house.

He crossed the room, pulled out the chair opposite Roselys, and sat down.

Vencian's hand tightened around the fabric in front of him.

— — —

Roselys

Roselys watched Paz lower himself into the chair across from her. His joints shifted with the same tired effort she remembered. Lines cut deeper around his eyes now. His hair had thinned at the crown. The coat he wore carried patches sewn with uneven care. He looked close to her father's age. Older in spirit.

Roselys shifted in her seat and let her gaze move past him toward the window. She found Vencian without effort. Cap low. Hands sliding across a strip of fabric he had no interest in. He held the disguise with discipline clean enough that someone else might have missed it.

She knew better.

"You're on time," Roselys said. "That's rare. I thought it would take you a while to find the place. You haven't been in Ralan for some time."

Paz scratched his cheek.

"You can take the man out of the city but not the city out of the man, kiddo."

She caught the tiny flick of his eyes toward the window. A habit of his. He tried to glance without turning. From his angle he couldn't see Vencian. She kept her expression neutral.

"Let's not drag this out," she said. "Do you know why I called for you."

"Vague idea," Paz said. "Looks suspicious all around but I don't have answers. Yet."

"We both know which incident I care about," she said.

"Coriel," Paz said.

She nodded.

"You sent me the lead. You told me a descendant of Erythrai could be found there."

"That wasn't wrong," he said. "Finding the right one was another matter."

"How did you come up with that lead."

Paz leaned back as if searching his memory, though she knew he remembered things with sharp detail.

"My brother told me."

She raised a brow.

"Your effeminate brother."

Paz sighed.

"I only have one brother."

She knew that. She liked to call it out. It grounded him and annoyed him in equal measure.

"Fine," she said. "How did he get the information."

"Same way he gets most of the things I bring to you," Paz said.

She understood at once. Paz had explained it years ago. His brother's relationship with Archbishop Zimri. The archbishop supplied plenty by accident. The brother carried plenty out on purpose.

"Still using the fruit of his damnation," Roselys murmured.

"That was uncalled for," Paz said. "Mostly because it was accurate."

Roselys folded her hands.

"I don't believe what happened in Coriel was coincidence."

"Neither do I," Paz said. "Too many things lined up."

"Then the information leaked," she said. "Someone else knew about the descendants."

Paz tilted his head.

"My brother doesn't sell his scraps elsewhere. That much I know."

She accepted that.

"Then the archbishop wasn't the only one digging."

Paz hesitated.

"That brings us to the part you won't like."

She watched the shift in his face.

"Explain."

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