When I finally wash and iron and make the towels and pillowcases as clean as they were given to me, it's already dark. On my way to the Great Temple's residential wing, I silently dispute with myself whether I should bring the laundry to Loretto right away or postpone with my truth till tomorrow, but I still come to no decision when I find myself at Loretto's doorstep, where my feet mechanically brought me.

Might be a sign. Might be a silly habit.

Might be both?

Just as mechanically, forgetful about the spell-lock, I turn the door's handle, and...it yields. A faint shimmering runs along the doorframe, the door clicking ajar, which means Loretto has, once again, set it to let me it.

Why? Surprised and a little worried, I step inside. The lights are off, nothing moving, and at first, I think Loretto hasn't returned from the library yet, but then my eyes land on the couch. My breath catches, scared of making noise. Half-seated in the corner of the couch, with an open book dropped on faer chest, Loretto seems to have chosen the most uncomfortable pose to fall asleep with one of faer legs dangling off the cushion and one arm twisted to pass for a pillow. Apparently, the unlocked door is still not an invitation to make peace. Maybe that's a sign, too. Or I want it to be to avoid talking about my feelings, deep down secretly afraid of them as well, because a weirdly disappointed relief washes over me?

As silent as I can, I put the laundry basket on the floor and almost turn to leave, but then my ever curious eyes settle on Loretto's rings collected in a small silvery heap on the coffee table. They gleam weakly in the moonlight seeping in through the window, nothing unusual, but the sight of them once again makes me wonder why my mentor neglects to wear them lately. I now realize that Loretto hasn't worn faer rings since the night I figured I could touch aura and began to actually learn to control magic.

Could it be connected somehow?

Approaching the coffee table, I reach for one of the rings to have a closer look, but the moment my fingertips touch the metal, Loretto gasps in faer sleep, and the ring stings my skin as though I've reached for hot iron. Like aura used to sting when I yet believed it was supposed to burn my plainblood's skin.

Alarmed, I jerk my hand away. My eyes flick toward Loretto, although fae is still asleep, then back to the rings. Did the ring sting me because of Loretto's gasp or did Loretto gasp because I tried to grab the ring? Or was it a coincidence? Or did my startled mind imagine the sting?

My thoughts tangling, I glance down at my fingertip. I can't see if it's red or scalded in the dark, but it definitely feels like it. Like dull throbbing as after a drop of boiling oil from the pan splashes you. The only logical explanation that pops up in my head is bizarre, because if I'm a shaman now, and aura can't hurt me, the thing opposite of aura that hurts shamans is silver-but Loretto can't wear silver jewelries! Fae is a shaman, too.

I don't have time to mull over this riddle, however, because Loretto gasps in faer sleep again. Loretto's breathing, measured and calm before, grows stifled and ragged, and faer eyelashes quiver as faer pupils dart from side to side under faer closed eyelids. I've never seen Loretto asleep before, and after witnessing faer unperturbed stance day by day, it's nearly impossible to believe Loretto, who always expresses only as much emotions as fae finds reasonable, can be having nightmares.

But it's clearly a nightmare.

I guess even magic can't cage the demons of your dreams. As Loretto keeps murmuring something agitatedly in faer sleep and faer ring-less fingers tremble against the book on faer chest, I take a careful step and sit on the edge of the couch beside faer, unsure what to do. Leave Loretto be? But I wouldn't want to be left in a nightmare if I were having one. Wake faer up? But it can only scare Loretto further...

After brief hesitation, I put my hand over Loretto's on the book. Faer fingers keep trembling under my touch, and I slowly rub faer skin with my thumb, trying to make it feel soothing. Loretto is still wearing metallic cuffs in faer ears, and once again I think that it can't be real silver, because faer ears don't look in any way scalded or hurt. To convince myself, I quietly reach for one of the cuffs with my free hand. I less than an inch away from it, but my eyes miscalculate the distance in the shadows, and the edge of my mentee bracelet grazes Loretto's cheek.

The murmuring stops.

Loretto's eyes snap open.

I freeze, nonplussed, as for a second it takes for the fog of dreams to fade, Loretto stares at me without seeing. Without recognizing. Then, worse, Loretto's pupils widen, outright terror shining in them, as though the nightmare has turned my face into a part of it. Faer body goes numb beside me, as though giving up. Trapped in a nightmare.

"Hey, it's me," I whisper, trying to fight my own trepidation. I messed it all up. I just wanted to help and scared Loretto more. But how discouraging Loretto's dream could be if fae doesn't even try to fight it, to shove me or instinctively attack me with magic? Fae is always quick to react. "Loretto, it's me. Eli. Sorry, the lock let me in. I brought the laundry and you were having a bad dream and I just wanted--"

"Eli?" At the sound of my voice, Loretto's eyes finally focus, clearing. And before I even manage to nod, Loretto leans forward, crushing against me and wrapping me in faer arms.

I freeze midbreath, failing to reply. I expected to be shouted at, or pushed out the door for intruding, or at very best ignored, not hugged. My mentor knows how to hug? But apparently yes, because Loretto keeps holding me, sagging against me as though I'm some kind of haven.

As my instant bewilderment eases, I put my arms around Loretto in return. Loretto sighs and squeezes my ribs tighter, burying faer face into my neck.

"What did you dream about?" I ask quietly.

Loretto doesn't hear me or doesn't want to, because I get no answer. Seconds tick away, and we simply sit in silence without moving, nothing but our breathing to listen to in the night. This very moment, Loretto's warmth against me, Loretto's unguarded credence feels so natural, so harmonious, I realize, I want it to last forever. I don't even care about our previous quarrels anymore, or the harsh words Loretto said to me and Ian, or the right decisions which suggest we're aren't supposed to be friends to stay pragmatic and win. Who needs pragmatic if you can feel all this?

A simple hug, but I missed this even more that I thought. Warm, firm, tender. It's like I'm back home. I don't care if I'm a shaman or not, if my family despites aurabloods, if there's a damn war brewing in the world outside and we all can get killed tomorrow. I don't care. If I've the power of shooing my friend's nightmares away, I don't need anything else. I'm home.

It takes a minute or an hour, but in the end, the magic of the moment shatters, of course. Loretto lets go of me, lightly pushing away, and I can sense faer tension returning as rational mind takes emotions back under control.

"I..." Loretto glances up at me, then quickly away. "Sorry, Eli, I didn't mean to. I think I lose it sometimes when I'm tired."

I watch Loretto pick up faer book that has fallen to the floor, faer movements sluggish. "That's okay if you need a hug once a century. We all do, Loretto."

"It's childish."

"It's humane."

"Humane?" fae laughs. "What happened to the philosophy of shamans not being humans?"

I shrug. "It happened to be bullshit."

Instead of answering, Loretto rises to faer feet, putting the book on the coffee table, looking around the murky apartments as if seeing it for the first time or searching for a distraction. My mentor doesn't ask me to leave, though technically, I don't live here anymore and there's no reason for me to stay, especially since I wasn't even invited. And after a few second, the silence becomes strained as we both do and say nothing. I know I'm supposed to go, but I don't really want to, and talking about what I came to talk in first place is pointless now, and...am I to just stand up and leave? Say good night? Shake hands? Or are we on the stage of hugging good night now?

"Are your jewelries made of silver?" I ask.

Surprise alters Loretto's features.

"I touched one, and it kinda burned me," I add.

"You can't tell anyone."

I blink, conflicted, staring at Loretto through the night, but even shadows don't conceal Loretto's seriousness. "What?" Fae won't even deny it? "But-- How-- Why doesn't silver hurt you?" And it hurts me now. My stomach knots as I realize I haven't thought of this. How do I talk to Cale without revealing myself? Do we even have silver at home? Like spoons? Hairpins? Sewing needles? It's outlaw, sure, but since when do we respect laws?

Loretto hesitates a moment, then drops to sit on the couch beside me again. Collecting the rings from the table in faer palm, Loretto looks at them, and the last of dowdiness evaporates from faer voice as fae speaks. "If you're asking scientifically, I can't explain. I've never been taught that way, and every possible explanation is locked up in Maricela's private library. All I've figured so far is that silver and aura are pretty much alike yet opposing, like...two magnets pushing apart? Seeking to destroy each other like fire and water. Once you use aura for the first time, it clings to you, leaves a trace in your blood even if you spend everything you've channeled. Changes you, in a way. So silver seeks to destroy you, to turn aura in your cells into silver and, as a result, makes you sick and temporarily weak as a shaman."

"But not you."

"No." Loretto shakes faer head, beginning to put faer rings on one by one. "Not anymore. Human body is a miraculous thing, it can adapt to almost anything. If you wear silver, a small amount, little by little, you'll get immune, not sick. Plus, with some training, you can use silver objects as a source of magic even, let's say, outside shaman enclaves, in the parts of the world where magic doesn't exist anymore."

"Silver is forbidden in Cabracan." I begin to reach for the rings on Loretto's thumb, then stop short. "Nobody ever caught you?" Now I remember that silver ring that was found in the library not so long ago. Loretto must've simply dropped it accidentally; it wasn't a part of another conspiracy.

"If nobody knows shamans can wear silver, why would they ask whether I'm wearing silver?" Loretto chuckles. "It was a well-known fact before the times of shaman slavery, but I guess time--or our empress--is good at burying secrets. And shamans don't shake hands, don't hug unless they're family, so there is...was no shaman to touch me and discover my ruse." A pause. "Plus, it's convenient. If you get in a fight where you can't use sorcery, metal bands around your fingers go nicely with punches." Putting the last ring on faer index finger, Loretto looks at faer hand. "And even without the practical part, I think it's handsome, isn't it?"

So you haven't been wearing them lately so as not to hurt me. I recall as we argued when I just returned from the tower, as Loretto threw the rings my way, and one of them prickled my skin. Back then, I thought Loretto enchanted them. "If it can't hurt you anymore, there's nothing that can make you powerless, either?" Truly invincible?

"There's one thing." Before continuing, Loretto reaches up and pulls one of the smaller cuffs off faer ear. Rolling in between faer fingertips, glum, fae says, "If there's enough silver and it's close to my throat, to carotid artery that goes from the heart to the brain, it can make me unreceptive of magic. It won't hurt, but I just won't be able to sense aura and channel it. A silver necklace is not enough, of course, but--"

"A slave collar is."

"Yes."

Silence settles in once again. I stare at the cuff in Loretto's palm and feel uneasy for merely staring. A slave collar. Like those my ancestors used, those described in Montejo's journal I tossed into the library's aura abyss. Oh, gods. I now realize that if Loretto's parents died during the civil war caused by Maricela's revolution, faer parents lived before the revolution--during the rule of the last Montejo. During the slavery. Which means Loretto's childhood was also spent in slavery?

I've a sudden impulse to say sorry. To say it, though I've done nothing wrong, I've nothing in common with that Montejo-even my last name is different. But it's so wrong, it feels like another sorry in the world can somehow tip the scales toward the good a little.

"Eli, you can't tell anyone about this," Loretto repeats, meeting my gaze. "You can use this to your advantage, but only as long as it's a secret."

I nod.

Loretto stays mute for a moment longer, then a new thought sparks in faer eyes. Loretto rolls faer cuff between faer fingers once again and asks, "Wanna try?"

I swallow, taken by surprise. Yes? No? Wanna dress me up like a doll now? I almost blurt out cynically. But if I think of it...if I can be a shaman and handle silver, I need to learn to do it, right? Only what if I lose Loretto's cuff? Or if people ask, what do I say? I don't walk around wearing jewelries like my mentor. But Loretto keeps looking at me with odd, heartfelt excitement I rarely see in faer eyes, so I can't bring myself to refuse. "I don't know how to put it on."

"Oh, it's easy. Come." Mindful of faer rings that are on again, Loretto grabs me by the edge of my shirt, and draws me up my feet and through the apartments. "I'm still you teacher, I'll teach you."

Making our way through the dark, we end up the bathroom, in front of a mirror. Loretto flicks faer hand to turn the lanterns on, just a little, to envelop the place in cozily bleak light without scaring away the shadows in the corners.

Stopping behind my back, Loretto looks at me through the mirror as fae pushes one of my curls over my left ear aside. I hold my breath when Loretto leans closer. It feels almost like the beginning of another hug, but this one is deliberate, unhurried, and it makes my heart thump with unknown anticipation.

"Here," Loretto says. "You just push the cuff over the edge of your ear and fix it to hold."

The band slips on my ear, forcing me to hiss as the silver lands on my skin with hot prickling as though a heated raindrop. I bite the tip of my tongue to prevent myself from grimacing out loud, but my lips curve nonetheless.

"Too much?" Concern flashes in Loretto's eyes. "I've another one, smaller, or we just--"

"It's fine, Loretto." Under faer gaze, I run my finger over the very edge of the cuff, inspecting it, trying to get used to the feeling. After a few moments, it doesn't hurt much, but rather itches. Annoying, but bearable. The silver doesn't look as good on my skin tone as on Loretto's, or maybe just looks unusual, but eventually, I think I like it. "Thank you. I'll give it back."

"Don't." Loretto gives me a small, hardly noticeable smile. "It's a gift."

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Eli & Lo (by AI):