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I return to the loggia more morose than ever. The dusk turns bruise purple, clouds gathering in the sky thicker, and rain starts murmuring across the old city of shamans, dark and grim. I pick my textbook from where I left it on the floor before it gets wet, and drop to sit by the door of Loretto's apartments, pressing my back against the cold wall now.

Jaya thinks that I should leave. That I should run and hide, and give up everything I've been fighting and dreaming of since I was a kid. Give up the crown. Justice. Equality. Because only by running and hiding and waiting, we can get all that, she thinks. The changed world.

I don't run.

Probably it is foolish, or bold, or arrogant, but it feels wrong. I've built something here, too! In the last two months, I've learned more about shamans than in my entire life, and I've made a true friend--I hope. And that's not Jaya. Perhaps I can change the world from the inside, too? After all, am I not the proof that a plainblood can pretend to be a shaman, and nobody will see the difference? At least for a while? I've managed it until now.

And I'm not leaving Loretto! If Jaya's also right about Loretto being Maricela's forced servant, Maricela will punish Loretto if I run and they catch me later--and I've no idea where I can hide without being ever caught. I can't betray our friendship like that, can't leave my friend alone...And I ain't matchmaking Ian with that friend of mine.

It is around midnight when a familiar robed figure enters the loggia, the footsteps stirring me awake from my drowse. Noticing me seated by the door, Loretto halts for a heartbeat, bewildered, then crosses the rest of the distance between us, throws the door open, and bangs it shut before my very nose without saying a word or waiting for me to follow.

I sniff, rubbing at my sleepy eyes. I guess it means Maricela was indeed pissed.

While I think whether to walk in and ask what the empress wanted or give Loretto a few moments to calm down, the door swings open again. The lightning slices the sky at the same moment, making me flinch, depriving me of the last of my drowsiness.

Loretto stops in the doorway, staring at me, faer expression unreadable in the clouded night, but I can still see thoughts swirling in faer eyes, just as it always happens when Loretto has a difficult decision to make.

There's not a trace of the playful and careless mood Loretto was in when we last stood face to face in the hallway, not a hint of curiosity or trust, no heated air between us, and worry spikes in my chest with new force. "What happened?" I ask. Was Jaya right? Does Maricela want me dead right away?

Loretto turns toward the stairs. "Let's go."

"Where?" Why?

"You once said you'd follow me if I kept us safe. That's what we're doing now, Elisey. You're following. I'm keeping us safe. No questions."

My heart stutters. Why am I suddenly Elisey again, not Eli? What the hell happened at the meeting with the empress? But I did promise to follow Loretto, and I do want us both safe, so I rub my cold shoulders, shivering as the wind and rain hit my face, and hurry after my mentor.

Into the night.

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We walk past the gardens and buildings, the menacing looming shadows at this dark hour, and I realize Loretto guides me to the last place I expected to visit tonight. The broken temple. The only building in Tik'al that stands in ruins since the Civil War, the one Kofi and I used to sneak in and out of the old shaman city to steal aura. Does Loretto know?

Instead of slipping through the rift in the shattered wall that leads outside the old city, though, Loretto turns toward the crumpled winding staircase, heading up, toward the roof of what must have been a tower once.

I swallow hard, watching Loretto's confident moves, knowing how fragile this structure is. But it looks like my mentor knows what fae is doing, so after a moment of stalling, I follow, careful to step exactly on the same stones to avoid being buried alive.

The structure is big, and by the time we get to the upper levels, we're both almost soaked to the bone. There isn't much left here, but miraculously, something that looks like a balcony with a patch of the roof held by two thick columns still stands. The night is even darker here, crueler, the wind howling, but at least the rain can't reach us here. I guess if there is a place in Tik'al where nobody can eavesdrop, this is it.

"What happened at the meeting with Maricela?" I ask, shivering in my damp shirt, glancing at the edge of the balcony. Cabracan is visible from up here, worn-out houses lining the crooked streets. Lights are flickering here and there in the windows behind the curtain of the rain, but most people are asleep by now, and nothing is moving. I miss my home, but I can't see my house from here to miss it even more, so that's some consolation, I guess.

Loretto doesn't reply, and turning around, I see faer standing still, considering me. Thinking again. Loretto doesn't even wince at the cold; magic or temper, but something keeps faer warmer than me. After a silent minute, Loretto seems to finally come to some decision. "Give me your hands."

"What?"

"I said no questions!" Crossing the space between us in wide strides, Loretto grabs my right wrist and tears my mentee bracelet off. The onyx snap fastener flies open without any resistance, though I couldn't open it no matter how hard I tried.

At a loss, I then watch Loretto remove the ribbon from around faer neck. It is strange, and a little mesmerizing as I've never seen Loretto do that. The ribbon is as black faer hair and wrapped so as to hide its ends, no bow, no knots. I could've even believed it to be an actual part of Loretto's body if I hadn't seen Loretto without it in the morning.

Unfolding the silk, Loretto then takes my left hand and wraps the ribbon around my both wrists so tightly it hurts.

"What the hell, Loretto?!" I try to jerk free, but it is too late for that when I finally come to my senses and realize what is happening. The ribbon holds me firmly, almost as secure as the handcuffs the day I arrived here. Panic pits in my guts. "I thought we came here to talk. I wasn't going to run away."

Another lightning pierces the sky as Loretto shoves me backward, my back hitting one of the columns. "Oh, we are going to talk," fae says, faer face hard as the stone bruising my spine. "You're going to tell me why the hell Maricela suddenly wants to see your progress in studying magic, hm? What did you do?"

"Nothing." And that's the truth. Surprisingly.

Loretto's lips twist sardonically. "She didn't give a shit about your progress so far. For two months, you've been procrastinating, eating and sleeping and basking in Tik'al's sun, and nobody looked your way, Montejo. Even when Valto was murdered in your bed, Maricela didn't care for your pastime as long as I was willing to babysit you. And now, out of the blue, she is so interested in what I've taught you? Because guess what? I've taught you nothing, and she knows it!" Loretto pauses, faer eyes searching my face. "I specifically told you not a word about anything to anyone, Elisey. Who did you talk to?"

My thoughts spin in circles. Did I actually do something wrong again? I might have admitted too much to Ian. But he is head over heels for Loretto, he wouldn't betray us. Yet he is proven easy to convince, he could let it slip. Yaling or Jaya? Jaya said she figured my ruse just recently, when Maricela had already ordered for Loretto to come to speak to her, but we spoke at the cafeteria, when Yaling said they had found a silver ring on the temple's grounds. Both girls might have noticed how jitterily I reacted then--to the news about a ring, yet not about silver. Faris? When I talked to him and Ariane at the labs, I definitely said too much. And then I saw him talk to a councilor...Shit, so I talked kinda to everyone? "No one."

"Liar."

I stay mute.

Loretto watches me for a moment, but I still say nothing. Cursing, fae shakes the raindrops off faer sleeves, and starts pacing back and forth around the broken tower in front of me. "Don't you understand what your lies cost us?" Loretto continues. "Now Maricela demands to talk to me to ask whether or not your humble teacher sees any potential in you at all. Whether or not you're a plainblood who stole aura and pretended to be a shaman to avoid execution. Whether or not you can wield magic at all! If Maricela doesn't see proof of your powers any time soon, she can decide you're no use to her even before the trials. And then the council can suddenly find some fingerprint or a lost button that will pin Valto's murder on you, and I'll end up guilty of covering for you all this time."

I swallow hard, my confusion coiling into distress. Well, that's it. Somehow, Maricela learned the truth. And Loretto has learned it now, too. And everything I've built here has just crumpled like a house of cards. My lies cost this much--everything, not just for my future but for Loretto's, too. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your sorry; it can't save any of us."

The last word fallen from Loretto's lips fades into the sound of the rain rattling outside. Loretto keeps pacing in front of me, restless, deep in thought. One way or another, I'm sure fae will find a way out of this, as Loretto always does. Only...Why bind my hands?

Anxious, I shift from foot to foot and look down, flexing my wrists, but there isn't much I can do to free myself. The ribbon is strong as a rope, and there is a knot now, which looks melted--magically?--around the edges, sealing my hands. So the only way out for me is to cut the ribbon, or tear it. Both options are impossible to do with bare hands. "What are we going to do now?" I ask.

Loretto stops pacing. "We?" As fae turns to look at me once again, a sense of foreboding crawls under my skin as there's something uncharacteristic in Loretto's eyes, some unfitting blunt sharpness. It's brusque and thorny as if Loretto doesn't use this emotion a lot so it comes out rusty. "We are going to do nothing. You are going to do everything, Elisey. You're going to sort out your mess and catch up on your studying right here and now."

What do you mean? I'm about to ask, but as I open my mouth, it dawns on me. Loretto wants me to use magic. For some bizarre reason, my mentor doesn't believe--or doesn't want to believe--that Maricela is right and I'm no aurablood, and wants me to use magic right here and now to get out of my binding.

I can't deny it is indeed the simplest way to keep us both safe: give the empress what she wants--a shaman Montejo. And I loathe to admit I might have actually gone along with this plan, and to hell with my ancestors who lived and died to fight shamans, to hell with my own past I've spent breathing and dreaming of just that if everything I've read in Montejo's journal about collars and slavery is true, but...

"I can't," I say, my voice small. Beaten. "I can't use magic, Loretto. Can't channel aura."

Loretto scoffs. "Of course you can. You just don't want to."

"No, I can't. Maricela is right, I stole that bottle of aura and lied to avoid punishment. I should've told you that you were wasting your breath on me, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. At first I was afraid of you, and then I didn't want to disappoint you."

There is a long piece of silence.

Loretto looks at me through the dark, dismay overtaking faer features. "So that's why you've been neglecting my books and lessons all this time?" fae asks.

I nod, dropping my gaze, feeling guilty of something I can't even change about myself. How pathetic. "I'm sorry."

Silence again.

I try my best not to look up, not to meet Loretto's eyes, not to see faer disappointment, but as Loretto says nothing else and no shadow of faer robe is moving on the edge of my vision anymore, worry stirs within me again. Maybe it is not just disappointment, my mind whispers. Maybe Loretto is scared. Because of me. Because how do we make it until the trials now? How can Loretto even try to beat Maricela and take the throne and be free if she kills us before the opportunity comes? I should say something else. It is not the end of the world, is it? I've been through worse, and survived. We can, too. We can find a way.

But as I look up, I forget all the ideas I just prepared as I see Loretto's lips spread in a smile. It doesn't look cynical anymore, or hysterical, or doomed; no, just the opposite--Loretto's smile is light and easy, and a little sympathetic as though I just said a bad joke. Under the thunderstorm, it looks eerie, though. A touch of madness.

"You really are an idiot, then," Loretto says. "You've been living amongst shamans for two months, and you still believe you are somewhat different from the rest of us here? You eat our food and sleep in our temple and read our books, and you still think you can't channel aura as we do? You did it just this morning at the library, when you pulled me out of the void, and I held your hand as I closed it. We closed it."

I shake my head. "I did nothing. And it didn't hurt me only because your powers must have protected me."

"Really? You think I can't tell when I waste my breath and my powers on protecting someone? I was a step away from eternal darkness and death, the last thing I cared about was protecting your tender skin from a magical burn."

"Then something else came in a way, I don't know! I've no shaman blood in my family. That's impossible." I raise my tied hands, partly in surrender, partly in hope Loretto will finally cut the ribbon and set me loose. "Look at my right hand if you want, the scald between my fingers where aura touched it when the bottle broke and the patrollers caught me hasn't fully healed yet."

Uncertain, Loretto slowly walks over to me. Fae reaches for my wrists, and I almost sigh, relieved this quarrel is over, but instead of looking at my fingers or slicing the ribbon, Loretto grabs it, jerking my hands down so I now can't use them at all.

The smile on Loretto's lips freezes like a grimace. "So that's what you choose for your truth? Of course, it's much easier to be weak," fae says, voice brimming with contempt. "To say, I wasn't born to win, it's those villains who are strong, and all I'm left to do is cry for someone to rescue me! And if they can't rescue me, it's their fault I'm suffering! I'd love to wait until you're tired of playing a victim, Elisey, but unfortunately, as you might have noticed, we're out of time!" I try to wring free, but it seems to only kindle faer annoyance. Loretto shoves me again, and caught by surprise and staggering, I topple over, my side hitting the floor littered with stone shards. "I am your mentor, and when I say you become a shaman tonight, you become one!"

I gasp as pain lances my shoulder I fell on, blinding me for a moment. "Are you insane? I just told you I can't!"

"Don't worry. Like a thoughtful teacher, I'll help you. Though you might not like my ways."

Before I can climb to my feet, Loretto blurs to my side, a shadow amidst shadows, nothing but eyes shining. Kneeling, Loretto reaches out, and faer fingers close around my throat. Without any pressure that could hurt, yet Loretto's cold fingertips send goosebumps across my skin and leave raindrops on my neck. The lightning strikes again, and now it occurs to me this storm might be no coincidence. If it's Loretto's dark mood and magic to blame, and if the next lightning, on purpose or not, can strike me. Panic builds in my stomach.

"You've grown careless on my part," Loretto continues, staring down at me. "It's obviously my fault for making you believe no harm is coming your way from me, but who do you think I am? Your local guardian angel shielding you from shamanic demons? Bad news, then. I'm an adherent of no religion. I believe in neither demons nor angels, yet even if I did, I'd say angels were the ones capable of baring their teeth when their pupils misbehaved." Loretto's hand around my throat closes a little harder. "I've teeth, Montejo."

"Stop it!" Loretto's grip still doesn't hurt, but it is alarming now, and my heart starts hammering in my temples. "You're upset with me because I lied. I get it. But--"

A gust of wind swishes past, and that same invisible force that once pinned me to the door of Loretto's apartments seals my limbs. I can't rise to my feet now even if I try, can use neither my arms nor my legs to defend myself or fight back.

"I'm not upset. I'm furious!" barks Loretto, pressing me into the cold floor. "It's your choice to use your problems as a reason to cry or as an opportunity to learn and become even stronger than you've ever imagined yourself. And you choose to cry! You're always so heroic with your words, talking about justice and punishing the evil ones, yet when it comes to real actions, you whine like a lost puppy. But you can't play a hero and a victim at the same time, because guess what? One should save another. The villain's role is taken by me tonight, clearly, so pick yours, Montejo. Now!"

"Why?"

"Why? Have you forgotten your own words? I'm an evil shaman of wicked powers, nobody can control me so I do as I please. And I please to kill you, that's why! The only way to stop me is to use my weapon against me. So come on, Montejo, use aura and punish me! Or--die."

I suck in a breath as Loretto's fingers keep gradually closing around my throat. Now it actually hurts, and my first wave of panic transforms into true fear, though I somehow manage to push it away from my thoughts.

"No, you won't kill me," I say, my voice hoarse, my pulse drumming under Loretto's fingers hotly. "Call me Montejo all you like, but we both know you don't hate me. We both know whoever my ancestors were, I'm not them. And you're not an evil shaman, either, Loretto! And--and even if I wanted to use magic with my bare hands, even if I did it, ignoring the burns it'd leave on my skin, a plainblood like me would go mad after a try or two. Not just drunk on power kind of mad, but...something different. It's in my genes! My great-granduncle, whose watch I showed you, tried to use magic, you know? He killed himself after. I won't do it."

Loretto's fingers stop squeezing my throat. I've never thought that my great-grandfather and his brother would save my life, so it almost feels like a miracle, someone else's death and sorrow designed to transform into life through all these years and save me. Dubious, Loretto narrows faer eyes, as though sensing I'm telling the truth. And maybe fae does, after all they say my mentor is talented enough to wield aura of all affinities, and empathy is one of them.

I expect Loretto's expression to soften the next second, expect faer shoulders to relax, and faer hand to let go of my throat, because even when we're upset, our temper eventually hushes, right? Especially if others don't deserve to experience the ruinations this temper brings.

But Loretto doesn't let go.

"We just came from can't to won't," Loretto hisses instead, faer eyes flash like razors at night, and faer fingers squeeze my throat again. Not a miracle. Pain. "Nice, you see? We've progress already. And about going mad...do you still believe I care? Maricela will blame me for your defectiveness anyway if you can't do what you're expected to, so I suppose I better just leave you here to rot and tell the empress you, let's say, ran off? Leaving your mentee's bracelet to me as a farewell present. Nobody will find you here, Montejo, and nobody will even look. Nobody will be able to check whether you are a shaman or not if you're gone. If you can't wield magic, you're no use to me, either, don't you see? You're a broken toy meant to be thrown away."

I stare at Loretto, my mind going numb. A toy? So that's what I am in faer eyes? My mentor wants me to channel aura even if it shatters my mind? Even if it is the last thing I do? A toy...That's all Loretto ever wanted--a useful plaything? And our friendship was nothing but a lie to achieve that? "I don't believe that."

"Oh? Then believe this: I didn't come this far just to let Maricela kill me for an offspring of my people's former enslaver. You, of all people? I'm not fighting for you!"

I don't believe that. But my singing, stifled throat suggests otherwise. So does the heart thrashing against my ribs. So does Loretto's expression of inimical disdain, not a trace of a shaman I grew to call a friend in my mind. And Loretto clearly has given my fate much thinking; it's impossible fae just came up with all these options and reasons just now, out of spite. Fear pierces my heart, I can't push it away any longer. I'm really meant to die tonight.

I shake my head--try to--a second before Loretto's fingers dig into the soft flesh on my neck with new force, so hard that I find it hard to breathe now. The muscles on my throat jerk, and a whimper escapes from my lips. "No. No, my bracelet has a tracker, they will know I was here, Tayen. You can't just get rid of me!" My life can't end like this.

Loretto laughs, a pitying sound. "A tracker? Tracking someone without their consent is unethical in a shaman's mind, Montejo. Besides, why would the council need to track your moves? To frame you? But you get into spectacular trouble all the time on your own."

No air.

Despair seeps into my chest instead.

Pain.

Dark, despaired pain.

I'm really meant to die tonight. But just an hour ago, I could live. No trackers. Just an hour ago, I could leave Tik'al and these shamans any time I wanted. Or I could sneak out, find a new aura ring myself, hide it in a pocket, and surreptitiously use magic little by little; I could pass for a weak, talentless shaman, but still a shaman--at least for a few more weeks. Or I could go and ask why Cale and Kofi abandoned me here for so long, could tell them so many things about Tik'al's hidden paths and passages I discovered wandering here. I could even try to find some naive shaman and ask them to help my people perfect the formula to deprive magicians of power--and tell Cale! There was a chance that I could even help them take away Maricela's crown by now!

Instead, I chose to believe the easy way didn't exist...A tracker. Now the thought seems absurd. I've never even heard of trackers in gems; shamans can trace the energy used for opening portals, but not the locations of precious stones themselves. Now Loretto's words of choosing to play a victim gain some new meaning, new form. Tangible. Just an hour ago...

And now I can't breathe.

I'm meant to die.

It's so dark.

And I've nobody to blame but myself. Like the last nail in my coffin, this thought drives my despair to my very soul. Because Loretto never cared. Because it has always been about saving faerself, not fighting for justice, not trusting me. It was all a lie. Because even if I refuse to use magic in order to save my sanity, I still end up dead, choked to death by the hand of the person I foolishly believed could see me as an equal.

As a friend.

I wasn't born to be a friend...

My mind goes dark...

"Stop!" I scream--whine--a mindless, last attempt as my thoughts grow tangled and muffled, as there is not enough air in my lungs to keep me conscious for long.

"I don't want to!" Loretto bellows. "Make me."

The thunderstorm must be still raging outside, but I can't hear it anymore. Can't see. All I see is Loretto's eyes watching me, unblinking. I wasn't born to be a friend...There is a strange flicker in faer eyes, though, something akin to worry, yet I doubt Loretto would be worried now, all of a sudden. My blurring eyes must be imagining it. After all, that's what is left to do when you die--imagine things that can't come true in the future that now never comes. "Please...You're hurting me." I can't breathe.

Air rushes into my lungs the next second.

I gasp, coughing, my throat throbbing as my lungs take a deep breath the instant Loretto's hand draws away. The invisible force holding my limbs immobile falls away, and a shiver runs over my stiff body.

How delicious the air is. Rubbing my neck with my bound hands, I look up to see Loretto stepping away, and hope sparks in my chest. But there is no flicker of worry in Loretto's eyes now as my mind clears and my vision focuses once again. No change of heart in faer expression. Then why would my mentor let me breathe? "You're gonna leave me here?"

Not a muscle moving in faer face, Loretto nods.

Oh. The spark of my hope dies. I should've known. It took some effort to get all the way up here, over the crumpling shards and fragile stones, even when I was free, so no way I'm making it to the ground in one piece with my hands still tied. What a cruel mockery--there isn't any choice left for me now, is there? Strangled or not, I'm to die tonight either way. Because Loretto doesn't need me anymore. Because fae has already turned faer back on me, heading toward the broken staircase that leads downwards. Because I'm a part of the plan that never worked out and should be abandoned. A Montejo. My ancestors did terrible things, and now I'm the one to pay for them.

Resentment stings my eyes. But why would fae even bother to do the dirty work to save me from the agony of a miserable death? My mentor is right, nobody will hear or see me among these ruins, nobody will come looking. There is no need to kill me for time can do it beautifully on its own. I'll starve and wither and rot, all alone, and my family will never even know what happened to me. Like many other plainbloods who tried to stand against magic and failed, I'll be lost.

Turned to dust scattered to the wind.

Forgotten.

That's what I'm born for.

"At least your shaman life lets you live long enough for the both of us," I say, watching Loretto walk away, my heart hollow. "And remember me. Memories count, right?"

Loretto looks at me over faer shoulder. "I've too much to remember already. You're not worth it, Elisey."

And faer silhouette disappears in the dark forever.

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