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"Are students even allowed in here?" I ask, warily looking around as Loretto leads me past the pools and their steam.

My mentor has been right--no one cares, too busy splashing in the thermal water, drinking, and talking.

Besides, the flickering languid lights of the candles here and there, their reflections shining in the water...it's an ambiguously relaxed atmosphere so everyone is off their guard. We are almost halfway through the hall when a waiter, at least, notices us and brings us two glasses of wine. Thank gods, he is dressed.

Loretto accepts the wine, so I do, too. The bittersweet drink flows down my throat and dulls my anxiety a little, but I still feel like a trespasser. Like someone can glance at me--at any moment--and find some flaw of mine, say something, do something...I feel helpless and vulnerable while just one pathetic towel on my hips protects me from the world around.

And if I focus on the sensations of my body, I can even feel the breeze crawling under my towel! Hot, clammy, deceptively lulling but tickling my very core and depriving me of my last confidence! Damn the breeze, I think, gloomy. If being a shaman means showing off my core in public, then I don't want to be one anymore.

"Technically, no one would have stopped you if you had come here by yourself," Loretto replies, casually sipping faer wine. Hardly enjoying it, though, because Tayen's eyes are intent and studying the chaos reigning around, as if looking for something.

And Loretto's confident eyes are reassuring, at least. Yes, Tayen is also naked. Yes, very close to me. Yes, if I sniff, I can even catch the familiar aroma of wild berries of Loretto's favorite shampoo.

But every inch of Loretto's body has become so familiar to me, so comforting, that faer presence doesn't frighten me, doesn't disturb. Tayen, on the contrary, is like a lighthouse in a storm of this chaos, like an amber sun in the dark, walks next to it, giving me stability, which I want to cling to with my whole soul. In which I want to hide.

"But you're right, of course," Loretto goes on. "Low-ranked shamans, including non-ranked shamans like you, usually don't come here uninvited. And mentors usually don't make friends with their students so as to invite them."

"And you come here often, Loretto?"

"The topic of gossip isn't supposed to attend, and I'm most often the topic, am I not?"

"But then we'll look suspicious."

Glancing at the crowd at the bar in the center, I suddenly realize that I see Yaling. She's gesturing fervently, telling a couple of young shamans something, and definitely enjoying the evening, unlike me. She's alone, without her mentor, but I guess her crazy book club earned her an invitation here, nevertheless.

And again I feel ashamed for a moment, because well, I don't mind the shamans I don't know, I don't mind Loretto--what haven't I seen in faer body already, right?--but...Yaling, wearing nothing but her student bracelet? My eyes involuntarily run over her thin, petite figure, over her breasts and hips, swaying to her gestures, my eyes focusing as if memorizing everything--although I asked my brain to do the exact opposite! And how am I going to look her in the eye after all this? Remembering all this?

"We won't be suspicious," Loretto says, pausing for a second, and then stepping on the warm stones that make a path somewhere toward the corner. I'm glad to turn away from Yaling, to follow. Loretto's soft-looking skin, caressed by shadows, is even calming to look at. "People might only think I'm showing off in front of my first and only student, that's all."

Loretto's voice sounds either smug or mocking, and as I walk, I can't help but ask, "Are you? Showing off?"

Loretto looks over faer shoulder at me before answering. Perhaps the wine works a little, because something inexplicably naughty flashes in faer dark eyes. Or am I imagining it in this darkness?

"Maybe a little," Tayen says, lowering faer voice. "Why? Am I not allowed to?"

After passing all the crowds, despite faer recent wish to show faerself in public, Loretto approaches a miniature rounded pool--empty, but bubbling hot like a Jacuzzi. The water in here is probably indeed hotter than in the other pools, because even breathing next to it is hard, and no one wants to soak in here, but from this spot, we can see almost the entire hall and, if we listen closely, we can even distinguish what the waiters are talking about behind the ferns in the corner. Waiters always hear and know all the gossip, right? A reasonable choice. And someone will definitely suspect a trick if my mentor, usually silent and grim, suddenly rushes to kiss every guest.

Without hesitation, throwing faer towel next to the pool, Loretto walks down the stone steps and into the pool to sit into the water. With imperious laziness spreading faer arms on both sides of the pool and placing faer already half-empty glass on the stone next to faer.

Frozen, I stare at the bubbling heat that hides Loretto's body. I watch as the steam gathers its shiny droplets on Loretto's chiseled collarbones and shoulders sticking out of the water. How strands of faer long hair, getting wet, stick to faer neck with a black ribbon around faer throat as always. This is some kind of new picture for me, delicate and expectant, and I don't know what to do with it. How not to scare off both the picture and myself. However, the desire to turn away and forget as I wished to forget seeing Yaling does not arise in my heart.

"Well?" Loretto asks, looking up at me reproachfully. And faer eyelashes are shiny, too. Even more than before. Making faer eyes prettier, bigger, brighter. "Don't stand there like a statue, people don't do that here. Get in."

I'm not moving. I know that Loretto is looking at me as attentively as I am at Loretto. I know, but I don't know if I like it or not. Or yes and no at once? But to get into the pool, I have to take off my towel, and it's the only thing that still protects me from overwhelming shame. I already feel almost crucified in front of everyone, and now Loretto is waiting for me to take the last step to the scaffold? My mentor is already hidden in the bubbling water, sure, but I'm not.

Why, oh gods, couldn't fae warn me about faer plans in advance? In an hour? A day? I would also have applied some shiny oil to my eyelashes! Would have shaved...everything. Although, if you look around, half of the crowd hasn't bothered with shaving, and no one is embarrassed by it. But it would have been better to warn me in a month! I would have worked out to have abs! No one has ever considered me handsome, which means Loretto doesn't either, so why is fae still watching?

I don't know why, but I still have the feeling that there's some flaw that I haven't found in myself yet, but someone here surely will and--tell everyone. They'll make fun of me. They'll condemn.

But it's also too late to retreat.

After waiting for a laughing company to pass by, making sure that no one else is still paying attention to me, and gathering my courage, I force myself to take two steps down the stones into the pool. Goosebumps run over my skin at the touch of hot bubbles. This is probably how bathing in warmed champagne feels like.

Loretto is watching me.

Ignoring my mentor, concentrating on the water, which swallows me, wrapping in its silky warmth like a blanket, I go down into the pool knee-deep, and then--only then--I quickly tear off my towel and plop into the water waist-deep. Loretto is watching. Fae looks at me steadily, meticulously, as if I am some kind of outlandish performer, says nothing and does nothing, and thinks gods know what, so it starts to annoy me. If you don't like what you see, say so, if you like it, say it! Why silent? It frustrates.

"What am I doing wrong now?" I grumble through my teeth, also placing my glass of wine on the edge of the pool between two flickering candles and sitting down to Loretto's left at arm's length as it should be, according to shamanic etiquette.

I'm going to add something else like, You're a teacher, so get up and show me how to do it then, but when I finally meet Loretto's gaze, I notice something that I can only call a worried surprise that flashed in faer eyes and froze there.

Disappointment extinguishes my barely kindled indignation, tying a knot in my chest. Well, they found a flaw in me.

"I told you, I don't look as good as you without clothes," I add hastily, turning away and staring at the water in front of me. I should have left when I had the chance. I knew it would be like this, I knew it! But if I knew, why is it so upsetting?

Out of the corner of my eye, I still see that instead of answering, Loretto starts fidgeting in the water as if fae, too, has lost faer inner balance. Even more strands of Loretto's hair fall from faer shoulders into the water, getting wet and dark.

"No, that's not about your looks, Eli. It's just..." Fae looks away, and then immediately looks at me again, confused. "One part of your body is bigger than I imagined."

"I'm sorry."

Loretto stops fidgeting. Slowly arches an eyebrow at me.

"No, I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I mean..." The words on the tongue are confused. More? Imagined it? One part of my body? What does that even mean? I don't even want to blush anymore as I can't comprehend anything at all. "I'm sorry, is that a compliment?"

Loretto looks at me for another second with a completely blank expression, then suddenly grins, and reaches for faer unfinished wine again.

"Gods, Eli..." faer says between sips. "It's not about someone's size, or appearance, or even brains, actually. But,"--after taking another quick sip, fae shrugs,--"if it's important to you, then my words were not meant as not a compliment. Why are you always questioning everything about yourself?"

Because you're questioning everything that I've believed to be the unshakable truth all my life? Because a sidekick doesn't get compliments, and I've always considered myself a sidekick? Not the smartest, not the most handsome, not the most talented, just...fine. A little brother. An assistant. A guided friend. And I was quite satisfied with this destiny, I did not compare, did not reason, until Loretto decided to convince me that I could achieve something more. Achieve everything. Anything I want!

If I only knew what it is exactly that I want.

"Then what is it about, then?" I ask, frowning again.

Loretto smiles. Not a wide smile, meek and restrained, but in the charm of the twilight around...very convincing.

"It's about turning your weaknesses into strengths," fae says, "and using your strengths without a twinge of doubt."

Loretto's voice, however, sounds dry now. Dispassionate, as if quoting scientific facts. Either because of losing interest in the topic so abruptly, or because of trying to fight the tension that hung between us a moment ago.

You're the only person in the world who can turn a dialogue that started as a vulgar joke into a philosophical conversation, I think, but I don't say it out loud. Out loud, I'm going to ask what inspires Loretto's philosophy, but my mentor turns away from me. Still sipping faer wine, fae begins to study the guests walking around, thoughtfully and enthusiastically, and seems to have completely forgotten that I am sitting next to faer.

But I haven't forgotten.

"Wait a minute." I slowly replay everything that has just been said. "Loretto, why did you imagine part of my body?"

Unfortunately, I don't have time to demand the answer. Besides, it's no longer important to me as I look in the same direction as Loretto, and see another familiar face--two even. Everything is getting cold inside me at once, even though I'm sitting in almost boiling water. By another pool, large and crowded, councilor Tikhon and his niece are lounging among the guests. Maricela.

Cursing, I jerk towards my towel to get it out. To get up and cover up. Walk away.

But Loretto stops me, barely moving faer lips, firmly whispering: "Sit still."

And I sit.

At first, Maricela doesn't see us, or if she does, she is no less surprised, because, as far as I can tell from this distance, her gaze is empty, like a ghost's.

Then, as if realizing that we are not a mirage, but two ignorant shamans who have come to the territory under her control indeed, the Empress frowns, and turns away. She says something to Tikhon. He, torn from his conversation with other old shamans, shakes his head in response, and then also looks in our direction; his eyes run around the hall, looking for us and tenaciously finding us.

He's not frowning, he's grinning.

I'm getting uncomfortable. Shivering, I slide into the water almost up to my chin, trying, if not to escape, then to hide. The councilor's grin is crooked, drunkenly amused, as if he sees a gift presented to him for his birthday. It's like Loretto and I have ended up here today exactly as he wanted. As if we have stepped into a trap by ourselves.

Loretto, however, doesn't think so. Glancing at my mentor, I see only composure in faer eyes. Maybe even with a touch of condescending contempt. And boredom.

I don't know what to feel anymore. Fear? Anger? Fatigue? I've gotten used to Loretto's emotions, which are sometimes expressed weirdly, but I haven't seen Maricela and her uncle for quite a while, and I don't understand what all their glances mean. And the poisoner of kings obviously masks her true motives much better than anyone else in Tik'al, so it's pointless to guess.

The only thing I know for sure is that Maricela is not the Empress today. Not officially, at least. She sits relaxed, with a glass of wine like everyone else, surrounded by some girls and boys, cooing with her as if with a friend. If she really hides her title behind makeup and outfits from everyone except the Council and the rare confidants who are strong and old enough to remember the days of the last Montejo and her true identity by his side, then it means that here today, she is in the role of Tikhon's niece, no more, right?

Well, Tikhon's niece only bores Loretto. Okay.

When Tikhon says something else to Maricela, gently pushing her in our direction, as if encouraging her to say hello, a new thought comes to my mind. I've been wondering why Maricela doesn't look like a bloodthirsty warrior in my eyes. I've been thinking, what are the chances that she is just another puppet in the hands of the First Blood, who actually rules everyone from the shadows, but...

But, not the First Blood is in the shadows; every lazy gossip in town is about the goddess, right? And Tikhon is in the shadows indeed. Discreet, good-natured at first glance, reasonable... And yet, the carelessness with which he now imposes his decisions upon the Empress definitely puts him above her.

What if Loretto and I really shouldn't be afraid of Maricela or the First Blood, who, as Faris said, doesn't care about politics or her former students, being more than wise to indifference age? What if the real threat is councilor Tikhon who is capable of destroying us all? Capable of planning a conspiracy, of winning over any enemy, of ordering his henchmen to kill us, like Valto? And then Maricela is just a beautiful facade designed to draw attention. If you think about it, Loretto does mention the Council--where Tikhon is the head--much more often than the Empress in our conversations.

I don't have time to think about all this, though, because Maricela is heading towards us now.

Swallowing, I look at Loretto again. My mentor still looks bored, although the boredom is a little feigned now.

Unhurriedly, Maricela approaches us with her perpetually charming smile.

"How unexpected to meet you here," she says, measuring us both with her eyes. Dressed or not, I still can't help but admit that she always looks no less stunning than Loretto; so fit, gentle and commanding at the same time, with her long hair, like Loretto's, flowing in shiny dark copper strands and tantalizingly hiding her breasts.

I wonder if this is a coincidence, or has the First Blood trained her students to achieve what they want not only with magic, but also with appearance? But I don't feel comfortable in the presence of Maricela, not a bit, I just feel more anxious. Why did Tikhon send her?

"Can I join you?"

Still twirling faer glass in faer hand, Loretto smiles no less charmingly in response. "How can we refuse?"

Maricela looks at me. It takes a few uncomfortable seconds before I realize that I'm expected to agree, too. Having no wish to draw any more attention to myself, I just nod.

Smiling even wider, Maricela then goes into the water and sits down to the left of me--opposite Loretto. Our parody of a champagne Jacuzzi would hardly fit more than four, so the three of us are already at such a distance from each other that anyone can jump to strangle the other if they want. And should I expect something else? It is unlikely that my mentor and the Empress would suddenly start hugging in front of me.

"What prompted you to attend this evening?" Marisela continues, casually turning sideways and throwing her feet on the side of the pool right next to my shoulder.

"And what prompts everyone everywhere?" Loretto retorts. "The desire to know how far we can go, I suppose."

I remain silent. I don't know if Maricela's pose is meant to grant me her favor or disdain, but it's only now that I notice a scar on her right ankle. A wide, but not deep one, and it's pale as if her skin has been rubbed with, let's say, an uncomfortable boot a long time ago. Visible only if you look closely and even covered with a gold anklet, which distracts me with its brilliance.

At first, I even have an impulse to break my silence and ask where she got the scar--can't a shaman get rid of one with magic? However, when I look at the gold again, the thought about jewelry comes to my mind, then silver, and then...If silver touches the skin of a shaman, this is exactly the kind of scar that it leaves. And shaman scars that are left by silver, like scars that aura leaves to the plainbloods, are difficult to heal perfectly, no matter how hard you try.

After all, Maricela wasn't born an empress, and if the First Blood taught her to develop immunity to silver, like she taught Loretto, then it wasn't from childhood, either. Maricela was born to be a servant of King Montejo, born a property of the crown.

It is quite possible that the last Montejo ruler, unlike the first, was not categorical and allowed some shamans to use magic freely--relatively freely--without silver collars completely depriving them of strength, but with shackles. The silver on the ankles should also make shamans weaker, but also leave the opportunity for them to summon aura at any moment--when the king orders, right?

My eyes involuntarily rush back to Loretto--to faer neck hidden under the ribbon. Is it also intended to hide an old scar? Although I saw Loretto without a ribbon once at the top of a broken tower and several times in the apartment in the morning. There is no scar there. Apparently, children were not tortured with silver during Montejo's rule, after all. Well, that should be comforting.

Maricela stares at Loretto for a moment longer, and then suddenly turns to me. "I've heard a lot about your success in the craft of magic, Elisey."

"Mmm, I have a good teacher," I mutter quickly, hoping that my answer will satisfy her and she will forget about me again. She'll leave. To justify the opportunity to get a little further away from her legs, I reach for my drink.

"Yes, yes, only...I've heard a lot, but I'm used to believing only my eyes," she does not give up. "People talk about lots of nonsense, aren't they? The current era of shamanic rule in Cabracan they call tyranny, but look at me, do I look like a tyrant? "As if by accident, she straightens her shoulders, which makes her breasts appear out of the water again. Her hair is now wet, too, and no longer hides anything, and her gesture looks as if she is offering us to appreciate her. She knows that we will appreciate it.

Loretto is clearly not going to appreciate anything, still looking at Maricela with an impenetrably indifferent look. Even faer gaze doesn't leave Maricela's face, doesn't slip to her breasts, not for a moment--unlike mine, even though I glance rather mechanically. From surprise, which immediately transforms into another wave of embarrassment flooding my cheeks. Stupid cheeks.

"And I'm so tired of playing different roles every day," continues Maricela. "To be honest, I am so glad that I can speak frankly with you two. Power is tiring, you know? Everyone is looking for a trick in the world and everyone expects that the ruler will solve their problems, but in fact, people create these problems themselves, blaming anyone but themselves for their troubles. Like wolves, unable to divide a sheep, they blame that sheep for its very existence."

"Maybe you should change your methods, then?" Loretto's expression finally changes. Behind the veil of boredom, a subtle, mocking sarcasm appears in faer eyes. Yes, Maricela is definitely not the one Tayen is ultimately afraid of. "Try not to regard people as wolves? Give them the opportunity to learn to be independent, and take a break from the tedious power."

Displeasure flashes across Maricela's features, but it's immediately hidden behind a smile, too. "Audacious. But let's say I like it, Tayen. Your audacity has always bribed me." She continues to look exclusively at my mentor when she says, "Do you think so, too, Elisey? That my methods are wrong?"

I keep silent so as not to blurt out something out of place. Even if Maricela herself is not as dangerous as everyone around her says, her uncle is now also watching us from his place from afar, and it turns out that underestimating him is wrong.

"You also seem to believe that people are virtuous by nature," Maricela adds thoughtfully when no one answers her, "I know they're selfish. Three hundred years among them, alas, teach this."

There is a pause, and Maricela moves her right foot, which makes the anklet around the scar shimmer in the reflections of the lights.

"When they tell you they love you, they're really just looking for love in return," she continues. "Say no, and they'll hate you right away. Even if someone assures you that they're acting from the bottom of his heart, generosity becomes only a tool designed to lull your conscience. To feel kinder, better, superior to you. You can either take or give, but mutual help, support, cooperation...hmm, no, trying to find a balance never works--one person always gets more benefits."

After thinking a moment, she continues, "Like it or not, human society is no different from a pack of hungry wolves, only the hunger here is mercantile. Not in the stomach, but in the mind. In the desire to acknowledge one's superiority. Tell me, who can control a pack better than someone who has already studied all its roles? Who understands it like I do? Who knows that only fear can establish order--fear of punishment, fear of death, fear of being rejected and ending up alone."

Loretto is silent for a long moment before saying, "I think fear eventually destroys its creator."

"Well," Maricela laughs. "Then at least, history will remember us. Like our former beloved queens and kings of the Montejo family, huh?" She looks at me. "Everyone wants to live forever, but even magic can't help with that, and history...oh, history keeps people alive. History turns people into legends, and legends create heroes, which live forever."

Silence reigns over our pool again. I see that Loretto wants to say something, but Maricela is faster.

"So, Elisey?" she says, finally hiding her feet underwater, but moving a little closer to me. "Will you show me your shamanic talent? I want to believe my eyes."

So that's what this small talk was for. I involuntarily squeeze my wine glass tighter under her piercing eyes. She wants me to do magic in front of her. She wants to make sure that the spies have told her the truth, that I really am a shaman and now I can be put on public display as a Montejo descendant who chose enemies, not his family.

Before answering, I look at Loretto again. I really feel like a puppy today, not knowing what to do without his trainer, but...what should I do, really? Refuse the Empress? Yeah, and tomorrow her uncle will order me to be stabbed in my sleep, deciding that I'm useless after all. Agree? And then what happens? So far, I managed to summon aura only once, and even that was next to impossible for me. If I screw up, not only I, but also my mentor will be slaughtered.

If it's not for Cale or Loretto's instructions, I suddenly realize, I don't even know what my own opinion is. How can I stop being a sidekick if all my life I have known only that submissive fate? It's like learning to walk backward. And I can't help but think that no matter what I do, my own decision will be somehow wrong.

However, Loretto just looks back at me, saying nothing. Completely giving me the right to choose.

Glancing around the hall in search of at least some clue, I notice an aura light in the shape of a vase made of colored glass on the table not far from us, an inky-black haze of aura swirls inside, through which, contrary to common sense and logic, warm light glimmers. Maybe I don't have to summon aura? I'll use the one I already have. Shamans are able to sense when and who is controlling magic nearby, so that should be enough for Maricela to see that I'm worth something.

Concentrating on the light, I mentally try to find that minty sensation that aura always feels like to me. Surprisingly, I even succeed.

Almost.

Obeying my unspoken request, aura, I feel, is already beginning to stretch a thin trickle of energy toward the candle by our pool. The candle flame begins to shake, the fire flickers, sways as if from a puff of wind, and is about to go out and thereby demonstrate my skills to everyone...However, at this very moment, Maricela moves even closer to me. Boldly. Brazenly. Sharply. As if deliberately knocking down my concentration and mocking.

Irritation flares up in the soul. Why can't she leave Loretto and me alone at least for today? What does she want from us again? From me? I don't like her intimidating playfulness, promising us the gallows at dawn! I didn't ask her to sit next to me, especially when I was sitting here naked. If only she could fall into this aura, like Montejo's journal into the library abyss.

It takes me a split second to realize my mistake. To get scared. Of course, there's too little aura around to create a bottomless portal like the one in the library, but that doesn't mean that magic isn't ready to try at my request.

Hardly anyone sees anything, and only a few strong shamans--including Loretto, Maricela and Tikhon--feel the magical power rushing toward the Empress in an aggressive wave. Just a fraction of a second of my anger, and I immediately renounce my wish, immediately take my request back, mentally asking aura to retreat. And like a gust that rises out of nowhere and instantly disappears, aura turns its energy into ordinary wind that envelopes the entire temple with prickly cold wave.

Candles and lanterns go out all over the hall.

Darkness.

The voices of the conversations, the clinks of glasses, the splashes of water, the rustles of footsteps and movements--everything and everyone is silent the next moment, shocked.

It only lasts for a beat, which, nevertheless, paralyzes me with either fear, shock, or inspiration. Am I capable of this?..

Then there is a snap of fingers, and again, all the countless lanterns and candles in the hall light up at once.

The crowd's confusion lasts for another second, and then Maricela starts laughing, turning to the startled people and making an innocent gesture, as if saying, Oops, this is us by accident. And it turns out to be so plausible that everyone really believes it and, giggling and grunting, turns away, going about their business--even councilor Tikhon is in no hurry to punish anyone. The fun continues.

Not among us, though.

Deadly silence hangs over our heads like a storm cloud.

Obviously, I'm not capable of such magical tricks after all, and it hasn't been me who stopped my own angry outburst. Whether my mentor strangled the magical energy or Maricela herself, I do not know, but from the faces of both of them it's clear that both of them felt the intentions of aura, which tried to threaten Her Majesty's life. My intentions.

When Maricela turns to me once again, there's ice in her eyes that could have shackled the entire planet. And bury me in its glacier.

There is no hostility on Loretto's face, but the tension--in faer muscles, in faer eyes, in the vein pulsing on faer temple--screams that my mentor is ready to fight Maricela at any moment, if she makes the slightest attempt to punish me.

"Impressive," Maricela says after a long silence. Serious now, but not angry. "Very impressive," she repeats and turns her eyes to Loretto. "Well, I have to admit, your thoughts turned out to be correct, Tayen. Elisey is a profitable investment indeed."

No one punishes me or even reproaches me, and my awakened fright falls asleep just as quickly. Confusion takes its place. An investment? I look at Loretto. Your thoughts? What does it mean?

The vein on Loretto's temple stops throbbing. Tayen freezes, staring at Maricela with a mixture of surprise and anger in faer eyes, but fae still doesn't meet my gaze. Maricela has clearly said something that my mentor wanted to keep a secret from me.

But what exactly is it?

An investment? Me? Yours? My head starts to buzz, either from misunderstanding or from the hot steam of the pool and the heated air in the hall. Apparently, I misunderstand everything again, because Maricela's words sound as if the plan of capturing and turning Montejo's descendant into a shaman originally belonged to Loretto, not the Council. That Tayen here is not a victim of circumstances, like me, but the creator of a manipulative game to match Maricela's own. But it can't be.

"To be honest, I was afraid I'd have to take up Elisey's education myself," Maricela continues, sipping her wine casually. "But you managed to extract some talent from your student. And in such a short time, ah! Maybe you should take mentoring seriously? With this position, there will be a place on my Council, you know? And I just got a free seat the other day."

Loretto continues to ignore me, even though I'm now literally glaring at my mentor. "Alas, I still prefer books to most people, Your Majesty," Tayen replies.

"You can continue to prefer books, being my advisor."

"I don't see the point in that."

"And if--"

"No, Maricela." The refusal comes out of Loretto's mouth roughly. Dryly. Categorically.

Maricela blinks, taken aback either by the stubbornness or by the fact that Loretto suddenly calls Her Majesty by her first name. I see how her gaze flickers towards Tikhon again, but she realizes that I am watching, and in the end, she only looks at her glass. She forces a grin, pretending that Loretto's refusal only amuses her. Thinks.

She is going to bargain with Loretto. There is no doubt about it. Maybe my head is buzzing not from the heat at all, but from the wine I've drunk, but I also pour some more into my parched throat. Why is Maricela bargaining with Loretto? Hasn't my mentor said that the Empress doesn't want faer in her Council?

What has changed?

An investment?

Surely this conversation is supposed to make us suspect each other, as always. My thoughtless impulse to attack Maricela with aura is like trying to attack an armored warrior with a plastic knife, so now she is just as innocently, maliciously taking revenge. She's trying to make Loretto and me doubt each other. This is a mockery, a deception, a cunning trick. Loretto wanted to learn something important today, and at the same time, to have fun with me, but in the end, Maricela seems to be having fun with both of us.

But even so, I still found out something. But I don't like where my thoughts are heading now...Investment. Why doesn't Loretto say it's a lie? That no one has played my life like in a casino? That there is no bribery, no intention to kill the investment when the time comes to trade?

For some reason, I've always thought that Maricela is eager to find an excuse to get rid of her powerful opponent--of Loretto. But why have I never allowed the thought that the Council and the Empress, realizing that Tayen could compete with her in the Trials, would offer Loretto a deal? Don't go against them, go with them? And the price of this deal is me.

Or maybe Tikhon doesn't really count his niece as important at all and has decided that, since Loretto is a strong shaman and people demand a new ruler, they can nominally replace the Empress. To lie at the Trials, hide the results from the public, and give the throne, let's say, to someone who proves their ambitions, not power?

And what proves ambitions and abilities as vividly as a descendant of Montejo turned into a personal servant? Turned into his follower, into a shaman.

Then that's why Maricela tries to win me over again and again and always offers to help me, thereby ruining Loretto.

Maybe Valto was right, and I'm nothing but a joke they bet on. And then everything that my mentor told me at the top of the tower was not a bluff. Initially, I was just an investment, a toy designed to achieve the goal--the throne. It's just that later my eyes turned out to be not as empty as those of a glass doll, not devoid of intelligence as expected, and Loretto had to put up with me in order to calm faer conscience. Fae had to change the rules of faer own game on the move, and now fae has to fight on two fronts. But sooner or later you have to make a choice.

No, but Loretto doesn't need the power earned by cheating...right?

But if you don't need it, then why invest in this game?

Yes, it's the heat. The heat and the wine, and my head is buzzing and I don't understand anything.

I understand, however, when a new thought flashes in Maricela's eyes.

"Why are you quiet, Elisey?" she says, suddenly looking at me. "Don't you think Loretto is wrong to refuse my offer? Perhaps it's because your mentor is worried that fae won't be able to pay you enough attention if fae gets a promotion? But in that case, I could continue your education. And don't rush to refuse, either, think about how much the ruler herself can teach you. For my part, I wouldn't mind finding an excellent position at court for you after you finish your training. After all, I know you have the blood of royal descendants in your veins. It wouldn't be fair to leave you out."

"And what is the benefit to Elisey in all this?" Loretto interrupts without giving me time to open my mouth. "Let's be honest, in that case, you get a descendant of old kings in your service, and what about him? If it's not mutual help and generosity that you don't believe in, then what?"

Marisela smiles. "The opportunity to be a part of history."

"My student is not interested in that."

Yes, it's the heat. It's all its fault. But if I lose consciousness from this heat now and plop my nose into the pool, then tomorrow people will definitely start a rumor about me being a complete fool and a toy.

"And why do you decide for me, Mentor?" I say, glancing at Loretto from under my brows. By speaking, at least I begin to feel more determined, my thoughts become a little clearer, driving the dizziness away. Probably, I need to doubt myself less often, because determination, even if it's feigned, gives strength. "You are neither my father nor my mother."

Loretto finally looks at me. Surprised, offended, worried...I don't know. Most likely, all at once. For a long few seconds, Loretto and I look into each other's eyes, and it seems like this is some kind of new fight for me--without words. When your soul is turned out with just a glance, begging and demanding not to rush to conclusions. But if I hadn't rushed to conclusions, I would have been sandbagged to death in the sandbox in kindergarten.

"Wonderful!" Raising her glass as if it is a toast and interrupting our silent quarrel, Maricela gets to her feet. "Think about my offers, you two. We will see each other again soon, and I would prefer to hear an answer different from refusal."

With these words, Maricela turns around, leaves the pool and walks away without waiting for the arguing to continue. Droplets of water, glistening, flow down her naked figure, proudly and victoriously moving away from us.

A minute passes in silence as I stare after Maricela, my mouth is bitter and dry. I feel Loretto looking at me, but I don't look back. An investment, an investment is all that sounds now in my heavy head. A bargaining chip, a clown, a toy...

"Eli--"

Choking on the remains of the wine, I also rise from the bubbling water. Hot droplets run down my back, covering it with goosebumps, when my body is exposed to the air, which seems disgustingly cold after a warm pool, but I do not allow myself to shiver.

"Eli, we ain't finished," Loretto says, louder.

An investment. I don't even care if there's a flaw in me now, if someone sees my naked body and condemns me. Let them do what they want. I don't really like them either.

"Elisey!"

Leaving my empty glass on the floor and hanging my towel over my shoulder, I leave before I say something I regret.

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