May 18th, 1929

Nicoletta tried to get her scattered mind to focus. They’d been over this a dozen times in briefing, so many times she thought she’d never forget even if she tried, but now that she was here, a vulnerable human who had to recollect what to do instead of a ferocious wolf who could buckle down on a single point, she wished they’d gone over it more. 

But it was simple, she reminded herself. She was supposed to be looking for something. 

She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be looking for. It slipped from her grasp, replaced by a frantic, What was it? What was it? repetition that did nothing to help her remember. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fex shift. He was watching her without watching, waiting for something, even as he headed toward the artwork on the walls.

Of course! She couldn’t remember what the item was because they didn’t know what it was. They knew only that it was magical. She moved just as she thought Fex was about to open his mouth, tiptoeing gently over the carpet as if it might crackle and give them away. 

In human form her nose was better than even the best human noses, but not as good as in wolven form. She picked up a paperweight carved from black and gold stone and held it to her face, sniffing. No magic. She put it down and picked up a round, stone coaster. It wasn’t that, either. 

To one side, Fex ran his hands along the wood paneled wall, checking under paintings whenever he found them, searching for a safe. 

There weren’t too many things on the desk left that didn’t have an obvious use. “How are we supposed to find something when we have no idea what it looks like?” she whispered, even though she knew the answer. In frustration, she snatched up the pen holder and buried her nose inside it. Predictably, it smelled of ink. 

Fex stopped moving, and she could feel his full regard. She glanced at him sidelong, keeping her face down toward the desk. 

“We know it’s…” He paused, seemingly searching for the right word. “Portable. Dunfre said it would be something that can be concealed in a coat pocket.” He patted his own chest, where the pocket for the item had been added. “You were able to smell the training object so…” He trailed off a moment, and she nudged the inkblotter on the desk with one finger. Would it fit in a pocket? Probably not.

Fex said, “You can take your time. I’ve got a good shield up around us. Unless we start a fire in here, we should be safe.”

Of course. She was having a case of the jitters over nothing. With a deep breath she tried to remember what she did know: it had to fit in that pocket of Fex’s, so it couldn’t be too big. 

All right, that was about all they knew, but it was something. Maybe she couldn’t describe how magic smelled, but she could spot it. She opened a top drawer and bent over it, inhaling. Nothing. She went through the rest of the drawers, jimmying the very basic lock on the bottom drawer with a nail file from her reticule, and then moved on to the heavy bookcase on the wall. 

Right about the time she’d finished the upper shelves—standing on a footstool to reach—there was a snick noise from where Fex was. She turned, wobbled, stepped down, and saw that he’d set aside a painting and had just opened a small safe hidden behind it. 

“You’re pretty clever with those lock picks,” she said, both dubious and impressed despite herself. “Is that a new trick or an old one?” She picked up her skirt and walked toward him. 

Fex looked faintly embarrassed, which was new. “An old one. I, er. I learned during the Spanish War of Succession.” 

She tried to remember what or when that was, but it didn’t ring any bells. 

He added, “About two hundred years ago.”

Two hundred—it was impolite to comment on one’s age. It was impolite. 

He’d gone on anyway, hastily, as if she might think there was something wrong with having skills that old. “But I’ve stayed in practice. Kept up with new lock technology. It’s a surprisingly useful skill.”

She stopped to look at him. He was slightly flustered. She crooked both eyebrows—she’d never gotten good at doing just one—skeptically. She couldn’t say anything nice about that particular skill, so she settled for, “Hm,” and stepped up to the safe. 

There it was—that scent she couldn’t quite define, subtle but present. Quickly she reached inside the safe and rifled through the contents, taking quick little pants to inspect the air. 

Halfway through lay a cloth bag. She pulled loose the drawstrings and a burst of odor poured free. She gripped the whole bag and withdrew it, peering inside. 

It was a rusty disk with a scratched surface and jagged edges—whether from the rust or because it had been intended that way, she didn’t know. Gingerly, she freed it from the bag and held it up so Fex could see.

“My grandmother has one much like this,” she said, curious. “She wears it on a string around her neck.”

Fex touched it gingerly with one finger, then exhaled sharply and pulled his hand away. “This has to be it. I… would be careful about mentioning your grandmother’s around anyone back at base.”

She cursed herself for even mentioning it to Fex. She still didn’t know if he was a plant, although he’d told her about his visit with Vano.

He produced a handkerchief and held it flat so she could place the medallion in it, then he quickly folded it up and slipped it into the special coat pocket.

She was about to return the bag when he took a half dollar coin from his trouser pocket and, with a grimace, slipped it into the bag. “It’s about the same size and weight,” he explained. “So they won’t notice it’s missing so quickly.”

Nicoletta yanked the ties closed and placed it back where it had been. “Maybe our employers will reimburse you?” 

Fex snorted softly. “Maybe. You can be my witness to the expense.”

When she stepped away from the safe he eyed the interior critically. She was pretty sure he’d only gotten a glance inside before she’d come over, but he tapped a few papers together and pushed a small box deeper within. He paused, studying it, then swung the safe door shut, re-hung the painting very precisely crooked, and grinned at Nicoletta. “Well, my dear, shall we get back to the dancing?”

She went to the desk chair and sat, mind awhirl. “My shoes?” He approached and she added, “Correcting the objects seemed very… practiced.” 

“I… well.” He handed her her shoes, which he’d tucked toe-first into the waistband of his trousers while he’d needed his hands. “I wasn’t always an apothecary. Er. Only an apothecary.”

She took her shoes and chose her words carefully as she slid them on. “There are a few people in my family who are… not apothecaries.” 

He paused as if weighing her words, then relaxed a little. “Oh, of course! Then you understand.” He smiled, but it wobbled in his eyes. “I hope you like those family members.”

She tied the ribbons on her fancy shoes and considered him. “Most of them ended up in the big house at some time, whether or not they deserved it.” She reached up to tug on her hair, then realized it was all still carefully arranged. She took Fex’s hand instead, letting him help her rise. “But I’m thinking you’re a little too experienced for that…?”

“It’s easy for a man to disappear if no one can remember what he looks like,” he said confidingly. “I keep my usual glamour fairly minimal to save energy, so this is my real build and my real voice. But I can look just about however I want. Or not be visible at all. For short bursts of time that’s not too big a strain.” He offered her his arm and she took it automatically, her mind spinning.

Of course he wouldn’t look like himself if he was doing something illegal, not if he could help it. She wondered what happened if he couldn’t help it. She eyed him critically as they started walking. “And if you’re injured or unconscious? Do you keep the image you’ve made?” 

“I maintain it while I’m sleeping, and through minor injuries.” He grimaced, exhaling heavily through his nose and added, “But if I’m really badly injured or knocked all the way out, or even just badly sick, it can… It’s a problem.”

Nicoletta tried to look at him sidelong and from under her lashes; it was, after all, rude to stare. “So someone bumps you on the dance floor and you’re fine, but… You maintained your illusion when I pounced and shook you.” She started to tug on her hair, stopped, and looked away before adding, “And dragged you through the creek. And grabbed you by the throat.” She tapered off; surely that was enough of a list from their first meeting, and she didn’t need to add any of the times she’d scared the daylights out of him to keep him from stumbling over mines in training.

In this lovely estate, in a dress worth more than she made in a year, next to a man who was clearly at ease dancing in tails, she suddenly felt like the barbarian her captors assumed she was.

He chuckled slightly, willing to at least pretend that it was all in the past though he didn’t manage to make it quite that carefree. “Yes. I was conscious, for one, and frankly, afraid. Keeping my illusions up is actually easier when I’m scared—probably some kind of survival instinct.” 

Nicoletta kept her expression neutral with some effort as they exited the doors. Of course she’d been trying to scare him at the time. Had he been another shifter, she wouldn’t feel bad about it now, either. 

Fex turned to re-lock the doors with his picks, speaking to the brass knobs. “Also, you didn’t really hurt me. I can maintain it through a bone fracture—at least through some bone fractures—I know that from experience.”

This time Nicoletta did let her wince show. She didn’t realize she’d reached for her amputated arm until Fex, who’d straightened, glanced down and then back up quickly. 

Nicoletta tugged on the already-perfect edge of her long gloves, as if that had been her goal the whole time. “Well, that’s good to know,” she said awkwardly, and crossed the balcony toward the other door. 

**

Blast it, Fex hadn’t meant to make her self-conscious about her arm all over again. And he was a little annoyed with himself, and their handlers, frankly, that the conditions that would render him unable to maintain his illusions had never come up in one of their endless briefings. He’d have to warn her about the signs of mana overuse too, when they were back on base, and the consequences that could have. 

This mission was a little taxing in that regard, but not seriously so. He just had to keep track of his multi-layered illusions and drop the ones that they didn’t need anymore as they moved. He’d already let the illusions from the ballroom go, but he’d try to maintain a ward on the office to keep it unenticing to enter for as long as he could. 

Nicoletta had already tottered ahead of him on her uncomfortable dress shoes, and was nearly at the balcony door when it burst open in front of her. She jumped back, just as a tipsy pair of revelers came giggling through.

“Arthur, look out!” the petite blonde girl said. Her voice was lilting and as high as her tiny frame would suggest. “There’s already someone here.” She sounded just a bit pouty about that.

“I beg your pardon,” said the man she’d called Arthur. “We were just, er…” His cheeks, already flushed from drink, took on a darker hue in the yellow light spilling through the open door.

“Looking for a breath of fresh air?” Fex supplied. “So were we, but we’ve breathed in our fill, so the balcony’s all yours.” He smiled brightly at the man and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “It’s a little nippy tonight, isn’t it sweetheart?” he asked Nicoletta, putting an arm around her shoulders as if to warm her. Truth be told, her bare arm was cold, and prickled with goosebumps, though that could be as much from alarm as the chill in the air.

Nicoletta almost immediately tried to pull away, stopped herself, and stammered out a slightly frantic, “Oh, no, we weren’t— I mean, well, we— that is—”

“It’s all right, darling. I’m sure we aren’t the first at this party to succumb to the effects of the champagne,” Fex said over her protestations. Better, he expected, in Nicoletta’s eyes, to leave this couple with the impression she’d been feeling woozy than that they’d been doing anything risqué. “We’ll switch to something lighter, and maybe have a few more canapés.”

The blonde nodded knowingly and reached out to pat Nicoletta’s elbow—thank providence she chose Nicoletta’s flesh-and-blood arm. “I know just how you feel,” she said, full of sisterly sympathy. “But don’t you worry, you’ll be right as rain in just a little while. Try one of the little crackers with paté and see if that doesn’t help.”

Nicoletta nodded rapidly, offering the girl a grateful smile.

“Shall we?” Fex asked her.

Arthur held the door for them both. “You might want to get some B-C Powders for the morning,” he advised. “In case of hangover.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fex said. “Thank you. Enjoy your evening.”

Once they were back in the silent, dark hallway, Fex let Nicoletta go, took a polite step away from her side, and renewed the privacy illusion so they could converse freely. “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have let the illusion blocking the hallway go. It was careless. Dunfre will have my head when she finds out.”

Nicoletta was clearly still flustered, but she managed a cautious smile. “Well, she doesn’t have to know every little detail of our night, does she?”

“That’s true,” Fex said. “And we did secure the object.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Thank you, Miss Nicoletta.”

“Thank you, Mister Fex,” she said, with a hint of a tease in her voice. 

“You can just call me Fex, you know,” Fex said. “I don’t mind.”

“Then you must call me Nicoletta. It seems only fair.”

“It does at that, Nicoletta.” It felt strange to drop the ‘miss’ but he’d get used to it, he expected. He was about to offer his arm for the short walk back to the ballroom, but she started without him, with a swish of beads from her dress, and click-clack of her heels on the tiled floor. He had to take a pair of quicker steps to keep pace with her.

“Wasn’t there something about canapés?” she said. She seemed quite resolute about the change in subject.

“Ah, yes. Paté, if our young friends back there are to be believed. And I recall spying at least one waiter with a tray of chocolate mousses, too.” Perhaps now that the medallion was safely tucked into the shielded pocket inside his coat, he could secure more champagne, at least for himself. They could find a fresh pink cocktail for Nicoletta, if she wanted one.

Back in the brightly lit ballroom, the band was playing a catchy modern piece full of clarinet and cheerful piano. Couples danced to it with varying degrees of skill, from clumsy swaying to effortless twirls. Fex discreetly checked his elegantly dressy wristwatch—a loan for this mission. Alas, it was still too early to go without it being noticeable, but not too much too early. A drink and a dessert—or canapé or two if Nicoletta preferred—ought to see them through to a reasonable, if slightly early departure. And then they’d be home free.

As it turned out, there was both chocolate and mango mousse—an exotic imported fruit that was another ostentation from the host. They perched at a tall but tiny cocktail table, with fresh drinks in hand. “They certainly do know how to throw a party,” he told Nicoletta. He’d taken one of each flavor of mousse, along with a pair of adorable silver spoons shaped like shells. “Have you had mango before? It’s quite delicious.” He held the stemmed crystal dish of bright yellow dessert out for her. “Or would you prefer the chocolate?”

A delighted smile brightened her whole demeanor. “Oh, mango, please. I haven’t had one of those in, gosh…” She took a bite and was instantly lost to bliss. She let out a rapturous little hum and took another bite. “Not since Uncle Patrin took us down through Florida one summer.”

That was the first Fex had ever heard her mention her family. Or really anything about her life. He’d stumbled on her brother without ever knowing she had one. “That must have been a wonderful bit of travel,” he said. “Were you quite young then? I had my first when I was not yet an adult, still living with my parents in Corsica.”

Nicoletta cocked an eyebrow at him as though she wasn’t sure she believed him. “I was twelve, maybe thirteen.” She shrugged, dodging the story of her first mango entirely. “Corsica must have been interesting,” she said instead, eyeing him sidelong, like she was hoping to coax a skittish cat to approach without making eye contact. 

“It was,” Fex agreed. “It was part of several trade routes, so there was an almost endless bounty of interesting goods flowing through. The mangoes came from Morocco in a wooden crate lined with straw and wood shavings.” He could almost smell the warm Mediterranean sun and salt-laden air. But now that he thought about it… “Hmm, no, that might have been passionfruit I’m remembering. The Spanish brought those over from the New World, I think. Or the Portuguese.” He blinked and laughed at himself. “Not, of course, that it makes any difference now.”

“The new world?” Nicoletta echoed. She chuckled softly. “You mean, these United States?”

“Oh no, no. South America,” Fex said. “Brazil if it was the Portuguese. The United States didn’t exist yet.” He stopped himself again, when he saw her eyes widen. “I do believe the champagne is going to my head, now,” he said with a rueful laugh. “I’m making myself sound very old to you, aren’t I?” 

“Oh, not by more than one, maybe one hundred and fifty years.” Her voice was wryly teasing, and she was still smiling as she ate another mouthful of mousse. 

So he couldn’t have thrown her too much. But he really ought to remember that just because she knew he was of the Fey, and she wasn’t exactly human, she had a human lifespan and frame of reference, as far as he’d been able to tell. 

He picked up his own mousse and took a bite—it was very good. Rich and sweet, but not too sweet, and laced with orange liqueur. “Maybe I should tell you about the first time I had sweetened chocolate,” he told her. “It isn’t going to make me sound any younger, but it is a good story. I almost lost my hold on my glamour, I was so startled by the taste.”

She laughed, then clapped a gloved hand over her mouth to smother it. “Well, I could understand such a reaction if you’d never had it before.” Her expression sobered then, and she glanced around at the other partygoers. “Should you be saying things like that so loud?” she asked in a low voice, then mouthed, “Glamour?”

“Oh, no we’re safe as houses,” Fex reassured her. “I have an illusion around us to make our conversation seem entirely insipid to anyone who takes a notion to eavesdrop. They just see a young couple enjoying themselves at the party.” He grinned at her, and held his glass of mousse out for her to take a taste if she liked. “Even if one of us isn’t very young by human standards. I am young by my people’s measure, though. About your and Vano’s ages, at least in analogy. And glamour is…” He pursed his lips, looking for the right way to explain it. “Illusion, but on myself, instead of my environment. It’s easier to maintain. Practically second nature, which is why almost losing it over chocolate is funny.”

She shook her head at his offer of chocolate mousse. “Which is why you didn’t lose it when I…” She trailed off with an awkward little sigh, and looked down, stirring patterns into what remained of her own mousse. “I feel I ought to apologize to you for some of my… prior behavior,” she said, still not meeting Fex’s eyes. She didn’t sound entirely certain—almost like she was asking him rather than telling him.

“Mi— Nicoletta…” Fex managed to mostly correct himself and leave the ‘Miss’ behind. “Ah. Ehm. I… That is to say…” And now he was tongue tied. He was definitely having no more of the champagne. He pushed the half-filled flute away from himself. “I’m sure I don’t know what you could mean,” he settled on, denial seeming the safest avenue available.

She peered at him suspiciously. “I can’t tell whether you’re being polite or if I need to be frank.” She turned her attention to her dessert, took another bite of mousse, swallowed, and added, “I really won’t hurt you.” Her gaze flicked to his face again, full of rue. “Not on purpose.”

“I’ll try to remember that. I mean I do know that, now. And I do appreciate you saying so, nonetheless,” he told her. He gave her an apologetic smile. “There’s just something about having a wolf nearly as big as you are threatening to bite your throat out that tears logical thought to shreds, at least for a moment. But I will remember, and I won’t pull a knife on you if it ever does come to that.”

Her attention turned somewhere inward. “No,” she murmured. “A knife would be a very bad idea.” Before he could do more than note the unspoken something that had to be behind her words, she gaily laughed it off. “Just imagine there’s a dress and silly heels under my fur coat.” She’d extended one delicate, stocking-clad ankle and wiggled her foot around, showing off her impractical little shoe.

“Ah yes,” Fex said. “A lady in furs. I suppose that’s exactly what you are, when it comes to it. And I’m a gentleman with unusually large ears.” He chuckled, plucked up his champagne for one last sip, and raised it to her in a toast. “So, my lady, shall we fetch your evening drape and see if our car is here for us?”

She practically bustled in setting her mousse down and picking her little handbag up. “Yes, let’s.” Her eagerness to go couldn’t have been more plain. Unfortunately, neither could her lack of subtlety, when she glanced back in the direction of the study. “Do you think anyone has noticed anything yet?”

“I highly doubt it,” Fex reassured her. He put a hand to the small of her back to guide her towards their exit. “But probably best not to do anything to call attention to it.”

“Of course not,” she said, still staring back towards the little alcove that led towards the rest of the mansion and the study they’d raided. When Fex pressed his hand a little more firmly against her back, she startled into motion, finally looking elsewhere, but now she was looking everywhere else. Her eyes darted from partygoer to partygoer like she was searching for a new dancing partner. 

Fex raised his voice to carry through his illusion. “It’s fine, sweetheart, I’m sure we won’t be missed. You can send a card over in the morning.” In a much lower voice, shaped for Nicoletta’s ears, he added, “It’s copacetic for now. Look at me and giggle like I just told you a mildly scandalous joke about our hosts.”

She looked at him like he’d grown an extra head, like she was considering whether he might need to be fitted for a straitjacket, and then the penny dropped. She gave a stilted little titter, which would have to be good enough. There were a few curious glances their way now, but most didn’t linger. 

Mana-fatigue was starting to hit, Fex realized, when he tried to add another layer of illusion to them both. He’d been planning to give them both the look of partiers who had overindulged, but he could fill that role all by himself with minimal glamour changes and only a little acting to sell it. Nicoletta would probably have no idea how to handle that, though. He made a mental note to work on acting with Nicoletta before their next mission with her in human form.

He pushed all thoughts of fatigue away and said brightly, “Let’s not forget your shawl. I’m sure it’s even chillier now than it was when we arrived.”

**

Nicoletta was rarely cold, as if the fur she wore in wolfskin always kept her warm. It was a good thing, though; the shawl wasn’t much more than beaded veiling that went with her dress. She would have tossed it over her arm and carried it out if Fex hadn’t stopped to drape it artfully across her shoulders. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed her mistake, but only the coatman seemed to have seen it, and he gave her a little wink. 

Caught looking, she quickly re-focused on Fex. His smile was starting to look a little brittle at the edges, though she doubted anyone else would be able to tell. With his fingertips at the small of her back once more, he escorted her out the tall front doors and into the cool night air. He chatted as they walked, but she only listened with half an ear, the rest of her attention on their surroundings.

She knew no one was watching them—her hackles would have risen—but the human part of her still felt like their exit was noted by everyone in that ballroom, the entrance, and outside. Thankfully, their car was idling nearby. 

It wasn’t until they were inside and driving away that Nicoletta finally started to relax. As the house grew smaller in the distance, a sense of light-headedness overtook her—as if those few sips of cocktail had actually gotten her potted. She twisted to see through the back window as they went around a bend and the estate and lights blinked out of view. She turned to Fex with sudden anxiety. “You still have it?”

He patted his coat pocket, then pulled his handkerchief free to fish out the medallion. In the faint moon and starlight that came through the windows, it glimmered in its nest of white silk. “It’s right here,” Fex said before dropping it back into his pocket.

Nicoletta settled slightly. Fex peered at her before placing his larger hand over hers. His palms were warm and dry, his fingertips cold. The world seemed brighter than it should, and for a moment Nicoletta wondered if she’d started to turn. But it was only a half moon, and an internal check reassured her she was still fully human. She pulled her hand out from Fex’s to tuck a few strands of escaped hair behind her ear. Then she gave him a grin she knew was too big, but she didn’t care and couldn’t stop it. “We did it.” 

He grinned just as broadly back at her, smile white in the darkness. “We did! And we’ve never even run any training with you in a dress and heels.”

Nicoletta laughed a little too boisterously. It was like the rush of a successful hunt without any of the tiring work beforehand. She rocked forward in the seat, including the driver in their exuberance. “We should stop and get an espresso.” She turned to Fex. “Shouldn’t we? This feels like an espresso moment.”

“It does,” he said. “I was just thinking it’s a shame I didn’t take one of those bottles of champagne with us on the way out.” Cheerfully he mimed popping a champagne cork, pursing his lips to make the “pop” noise.

Before Nicoletta could respond, the driver’s deep voice rumbled across their mirth. “Calm down, prom-trotters,” he said in a sarcastic drawl. “This is still a military op, not a social club. We’re going to get that artifact back to base and you two are going to debrief.”

Nicoletta resisted the dual urges to stick her tongue out at the man and snarl at him for being such a wet blanket. Neither would get her anywhere. Instead, she wrinkled her nose at Fex in commiseration and flopped back in her seat. “They can’t really expect us to sit still through a debrief, can they?”

The perfect posture he’d kept all night fractured around him and dropped away as he slumped in his seat, wrinkling his clothes. His head dropped back onto the headrest, ruffling up the pomaded back. She wondered absently if he had to think about creating that, or if the illusion did it automatically. It was awfully real. 

“It’s Mrs. Dunfre,” Fex said a little morosely. “Of course she would.” He turned his head and caught Nicoletta’s eye, his own brightening. Dark eyebrows rose hopefully. “Maybe when they’re done with us we could—well, no, that’s not proper.” He slouched a little more. 

Nicoletta bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Well, thank you for the thought.” Whatever it had been. “If we had another perso—” Vano was her go-to chaperone; he was always up for a night out, and society couldn’t frown on a brother escorting her. But he wasn’t going to be joining them any time soon. There’d be no nights out for him until—she didn’t know when. Forever? 

She knew from the expression writing itself across Fex’s clean features that her exuberance had darkened. She didn’t try to hide it as she straightened in her seat and clasped her prosthetic hand in her flesh one. They’d taken her arm, her freedom, and her brother, and now here she was laughing it up after taking exactly what else they wanted with a near-stranger who was working for them willingly. 

Clearly perplexed, Fex turned in his seat slightly to face her better. “Nicoletta? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to give offense.”

At that she offered him a brief smile. “No, none taken. I find I’m suddenly tired, that’s all.” She looked out the window, staring sightlessly at the washes of blacks and grays that made up the world. “Reality intruded,” she added quietly. 

From behind her he said, as quietly, “Oh.” There was a stretch of silence. Eventually, he began, “Is this… Er. I don’t know quite how to say this. This isn’t about anything…”

When he trailed off she turned to look at him questioningly. 

As if that was the prompt he needed, he finished a little lamely, “Your escort detail?”

She glanced sharply at the back of the driver’s head. Was this a trap?

Knowing it had been too long, she looked back at Fex, half afraid he’d be wearing some smirk at catching her misbehaving.

But instead his lips were pursed in concern. He glanced at the driver and his eyes widened fractionally. Without lifting his hands from his lap he raised one finger in a “wait” gesture. The faint scent of mana use filtered through the car, barely perceptible and only because there weren’t too many other smells to drown it out. Fex looked at her frankly. “He can’t hear us now. I should have realized.”

Lie or truth? Nicoletta studied the driver, but he wouldn’t have reacted to the words if this was all a set up. Still watching him, she said to Fex, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything’s been fine. Everyone has been utterly pleasant.” That was an outright lie; surely the driver would at least twitch. He calmly looked over his shoulder and shifted lanes as though no one had said anything. 

Warily, Nicoletta searched Fex’s expression. He seemed earnest and worried. She knew he was something of an actor, with the illusion ability on top of it, but she didn’t think he was lying to her. She wished she were a wolf with those keener senses. “What should you have realized, Fex?” she asked carefully.

He looked embarrassed, but she couldn’t tell if it was for her or because of her. “That our driver here could be friends with the fellows assigned to you, so you couldn’t say anything with him eavesdropping.” 

She looked at the driver again, but he wasn’t paying attention. She looked back at Fex as he continued speaking. 

“I know they aren’t all gems. Some of them… that Corporal Wyatt, for example. He’s crass and coarse. If he’s ever laid a finger on you…” He didn’t finish the threat, but he looked murderous enough for her to fill it in. 

Perhaps she should have felt gratified, but instead the delicate framework of hope that had built because maybe—maybe—he’d realized something was wrong with her situation came crashing down. It stole her breath away. 

It was for the best. She leaned against the door and stared out the window. If they found out she’d said anything against them… She didn’t want to think what they’d do to Vano. “No, none of them have laid a finger on me,” she told Fex. It was even mostly true. There had been the occasional grabbed arm to propel her somewhere, but since they’d discovered she’d do anything to keep her brother safe, they hadn’t had to lay a finger on her. She was going along willingly enough. 

Certainly none of them had laid a finger on her in the manner Fex was implying. They’d sooner lie with a dog; at least they were sure one of those wouldn’t eat them.

Fex deflated slightly, though she could see his dander was still up. “Well… Good, then. I’m glad there is still some kernel of chivalry within these young men.” There was doubt in his voice, but he seemed to accept her word for the moment. 

“Indeed,” Nicoletta murmured.

Without another option, he settled back. A moment passed before he broke the silence again. “I apologize for souring the mood. I really do think we should be proud of our success tonight.”

She’d successfully helped steal something for her captors, and she’d been ready to celebrate it. What had come over her? But Nicoletta summoned a smile for her companion. “I am. I just find myself very tired, suddenly.” Weary down to the bone, in fact. 

Fex yawned, covering his mouth and looking a little bashful. “I understand,” he said. “I was up all night, myself.”

With her brother. Her heart ached for Vano. But Nicoletta smiled at Fex and nodded as if all was well. For Vano, she’d make sure it was.