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Cakes are good, but a revolution goes first.

It takes some time to find the guards' headquarters without talking to anyone, and some more time to patiently wait in the shadows, in a small paved backyard hidden under the stone staircase connecting the upper levels of the Great Temple's two wings. I know when the patrollers change shifts as I've been watching them in the past few weeks, thinking my brothers might find it useful. Now, though, I rather think my brothers can go to hell if they don't find it useful even to rescue me.

After half an hour of hiding from the merciless sun, I finally notice the guard I've been waiting for, who lazily walks out of the patroller's quarters. Ian.

Luckily, his twin sister isn't with him; I like Gen, but I can't fully trust her after she admitted her loyalty to Loretto by giving faer my cookies. And Loretto doesn't need to know I've been here.

I don't say a word, only dive out of the tree shadow and wave my hand, inviting Ian to come over. Technically, I don't break my mentor's rule of talking to anyone unless asked if Ian talks to me first.

Ian looks tired after the night shift of patrolling the streets, his uniform rumpled and shoulders hunched, but he only frowns, nods, and follows me into the bushes. We walk in silence down the alley that leads to the hot springs where some shamans like spending evenings. During the day, though, the springs are abandoned, so it's a perfect place to talk in private.

"What do you need?" Ian asks when we stop, his voice detached, soldier-like. For a moment, I think he's just in a bad mood for I remember him being quite talkative the last time we spoke. But then I realize he's glancing at my mentee's bracelet warily.

He thinks I'm a shaman now. The realization surprises me. Loretto hasn't really told anyone about the progress of our studying, which means nobody really knows I've been taught nothing so far. And it's been weeks. I should've been taught something.

And every plainblood knows better than to trust shamans and their godlike powers that can squeeze you lifeless in no time. I once used to wonder why shamans even need guards--until Kofi told me that guards in Cabracan don't really guard anything or anyone, or keep peace in the streets.

They're a facade.

Officially, the empress forbids shamans from using aura against plainbloods, stating that everyone is equal, but that's okay if one plainblood beats the shit out of another, right? Equality. Only plainbloods are allowed to work as guards, and the weapons they carry--can bullets even harm shamans?--are a good way to feel superior still. A rare guard will want to betray the empress because of the good sums of gemcoins they're paid and the sense of authority they're granted by their position. Divide and conquer. Let plainbloods fight plainbloods, set the rules from afar, and enjoy the show.

Yet in their hearts, even guards don't like shamans. Ian definitely doesn't. And he thinks I'm a traitor of my people, who sold my soul to the enemies.

"Relax, I'm no aurablood," I say, yanking at my bracelet with as much contempt as I can. It's a risk to admit that, but I need Ian's help. "Gen was right, what I did with touching aura when you two caught me was a trick. But if you tell anyone I said that I'll deny everything."

Ian still looks suspicious, though his hand doesn't even move toward the gun on his belt. Funny, he wasn't hesitating when he and Gen caught me. Because then, I was plainblood, a commoner, and now...But that's bizarre! Even if I suddenly did learn to wield shamanic magic, would it have changed me, really? I'm not a shaman, raised to believe my divine powers make me better than others. I'm still me. Not a worshiper of the usurper empress who thinks she can sit on the throne for the centuries her unnaturally long life lasts and play us like a chess game.

Pulling Loretto's knife from my pocket, I make a tiny cut on the tip of my finger. Just a drop of blood. "See? Red, Ian. I'm no shaman." But it'd still be red if I were a half-shaman like Valto.

For Ian, though, it's enough proof.

"You bastard!"

A flicker before my eyes, metal glinting in the sun. I only manage to hold out my knife instinctively, only to parry a threat with a threat. A blink, and the gun that was on Ian's belt a second earlier is leveled at me, while my knife is pointed at Ian in return. We stare at each other, breathing hard. Both ready to lash out. Both waiting.

I raise a brow in a silent question, belatedly realizing that I mimic Loretto's expression I often saw when fae was confused.

"You killed Valto?" Ian asks, his glare withering.

Here we go again. "No. But someone wants people to suspect me. Which is why I'm here, to ask for your help. I can't trust shamans, and you're the only non-shaman I know around here."

A muscle jumps in Ian's jaw as he keeps staring at me, hesitating. "And who says you can trust me, Elisey? Do you even know how to use a knife in battle?"

"I do, my brother taught me. Though I prefer daggers."

Something shifts in Ian's gaze now. Something curious. "Who's your brother?"

It's my turn to hesitate. Why would he need a name? But a single name can't do much harm, can it? Besides, the council knows all the names already; it's worthless information to trade. "Cale Tamm."

A curious spark in Ian's eyes grows brighter.

"You know Cale?" I ask.

Ian lowers his gun, relaxing, and giving me something akin to an actual grin. "Everyone who wants shamans gone knows Cale, Elisey. Which makes...everyone?"

There's a discomforting prickling sensation somewhere deep down my chest at those words. My big brother's name saves me for...a name. Aurabloods find me useful for being Montejo's descendant, and plainbloods find such for being Cale's brother. Nobody else. Am I not even valuable on my own? I look around to make sure that Ian's grin is addressed to me indeed, beginning to put the knife away, too, as I see nobody. Then, stalling. "Ian, what's your favorite color?"

Ian's grin widens. "Daybreak."

Right answer, just as the secret code we use says. So Ian is indeed one of those who Cale and Kofi trust. But neither Cale nor Kofi has ever told me they have trusted people in the shaman city itself, otherwise I'd have thought of finding someone to communicate with my brothers a long time ago. This is unsettling.

"Shit, Elisey! So you're Cale's brother? You're a legend! I would've never thought you to be a spy. You look credulous, you know?" Ian laughs, putting his gun away and nudging my shoulder so hard I almost stumble. "Oh...or is it a disguise?"

I frown. "Yes." No? What does make me look credulous? "And what about you, Ian? Valto was kind of a shaman, too. Why do you care about his death? Or is it a disguise, too?" And he called me a spy, I think, my mood darkening. Well, I guess it was easier for Cale to announce me his spy to explain my absence to his comrades than to admit the truth. Who would follow him into saving the nation from shamans if he can't save even his own brother? But I don't wanna be a legend, a nameless spy brother--I'm not even here by choice! I want to survive. Never in the years I've been breathing had I wanted to have a long life ahead of me as I do now.

"Valto was a half-shaman," Ian says. "We talked a few times, and Valto made it clear he didn't like this place. That's why I thought he was also a spy, you know? And after I heard he'd been killed, I thought we were all discovered. Doomed."

However genuine Ian might sound, I hesitate as I shift from foot to foot in the narrow alley bathed in hot sunlight. Valto is dead, and I still can be next. And it's a potential war we're talking about, I can't trust a shaman guard...But Cale does. I've never thought Tik'al's guards can be trusted with political matters--after all, they work for the empress--but perhaps being a guard for his whole life is not what Ian has in mind, perhaps he believes the world can become better and is ready to fight for it, and he's here not by choice either, merely making his living the only way he can.

Uncertain for a moment longer, I then nod to myself. "Ian, I need you to smuggle me an aura charm. A ring or an amulet--anything. Charged and preferably registered as lost. So I could send a message to my brother without any shaman being able to trace its energy back to me." I planned to pretend I wanted an aura ring just for fun, but there's no need to hide now, I guess. I could've asked Ariane, but it's risky as everyone is searched by the gates--searched by guards. And nobody is searching guards themselves, huh? "But yet again, if you tell anyone I asked, I'll deny everything."

His face growing serious, Ian nods. When I think it's done, and almost turn to leave, he suddenly stops me, putting his meaty hand on my shoulder. "Sure thing, I'll do that, Elisey, but...can I ask for a favor, too?"

My brows furrowing, I glance up at him once more, but Ian's expression seems guileless. "What favor?"

"You kinda close with Loretto."

"No, I'm not. And if Valto said--"

"Oh, of course, I know Valto was only kidding. I mean you and Loretto? He's your superior, there's nothing romantic about that. Still, you know Loretto. As a student, you're closer to him than anyone here. Can you introduce us?"

"What for?"

Ian only beams in reply.

Staring at his proud teeth, I feel stupid, but then slowly, it dawns on me. Geneviève said her brother was into Loretto. Well, just suggested, really, but who knows us better than our siblings? Humans and shamans usually find each other too despicable to date, but that's not forbidden, and I'm myself unable to deny now that Loretto can arouse...compliments. As for Ian, he might not be particularly eye-catching, but I guess he is what's called handsome youth. Does my mentor find youth handsome? "But you know Loretto, you said you sparred last year."

Ian's cheeks flush like a teenager's. "Yeah, but I'm not sure he remembers me, you know? You don't need to do anything, just make us meet."

"Fae. Not he. And you said you hate shaman."

"Fae, right. Gen told me. And I also said Loretto's not like everyone else, Elisey. Not a spoiled, power-hungry magician. You know he grew outside Cabracan, right? In the world of plainbloods. Like us."

Fae. Not he. And...not like everyone else? Gen's right, this is double standards Ian sees everything with. "Loretto lived in St. Daktalion, that's what I've heard. That fae was raised by a shaman goddess.

Ian laughs. "A goddess? No, those rumors are absurd, there're no gods. Where are they if they exist? No. Gen's heard it's just a very, very old shaman who lives in St. Daktalion. A so-called First Blood, the first human in history, who used magic to gain supernatural powers. She lives in St. Daktalion, because it's the only place where she can secretly practice dark sorcery. She's over a thousand years old, looks like a mummy, and drinks virginal blood to stay alive. She takes young shamans--virgins, of course--for apprentices once every two hundred years to teach them the secrets of aura and then kill them to drink their blood. It allows her to survive for two centuries more." Pulling me closer, Ian lowers his voice. "I think Loretto ran off, and came here to find allies to stop her. So if he...fae asks for my help, I'll help. You?"

I can't hold back my grimace. "What the--" Ew. I don't know what's worse: the insanity of this story, or the disgust it awakes in me. A mummy drinking virginal blood? But Ian seems to actually believe it, so...I don't know. Maybe I'm the idiot here. Shamans have many secrets, and Loretto has more than most. My mentor is mistrustful and capable, so what other kind of history might forge a person like that?

As Ian keeps looking at me, expectant, I know I have to say something. I can refuse to be a matchmaker, but what if Ian then refuses to bring me a ring? And it's not even a big deal--to put two people in one room or something, just...Loretto's graceful stance I saw this morning reminds me of a sculpture cut by a genius, which you should not touch but marvel at from afar. And I doubt Ian wants just to chit-chat. Him, touching that sculpture? Ian's wrists are, like, twice as thick as Loretto's. Not that a shaman like my mentor can find that harmful, I guess, but-- Just imagining Ian's hand holding Loretto's feels wrong.

But why do I care? "Fine. Whatever." I roll my shoulders, shooing the thought away. "I'll arrange you a date. But a ring first."

Beaming again, Ian nods, and trots off.

I glare after him as he disappears behind the bushes. Suddenly, there is a new feeling within me. A feeling, the resource of which I can't fully place. Hot, and leaving the tip of my tongue bitter.

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