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I overreacted.

Once I step onto the dusk-bathed, clean Tik'al street surrounded by flower beds like a well-groomed crypt, I realize that doubts are beginning to overwhelm me again.

It's always like this in Tik'al. A thousand-year-old temple complex, which, thanks to its notorious magic, never changes, and requires you to do the same: look at it today or through a photograph taken a century ago, but honor the traditions. If you don't look closely, everything is cozy, beautiful and right, but if you think about it... it's a crowded mausoleum. And Tayen is sleeping in it somewhere? I've never intended to get this far away from Loretto since the day we met.

Sighing, I return.

Peeking into Tayen's bedroom, I make sure that my sleeping mentor is still too healthy for a mausoleum exhibit. That our one remaining dagger, which, after washing, I carefully put under its usual corner of the mattress so that Loretto could reach it in case something bad happens, is intact. Having drawn a verification rune in the air, as I'm taught, I check if the enchantment locks on the doors and windows are flickering steadily and have not failed.

Everything is perfect.

And still, I have a bad feeling, it hurts and aches somewhere deep in my soul. I always screw things up, why did I suddenly decide that today was my hour?

No, I'm learning to take action, I remind myself, going out into the hallway again. Still, I anxiously tug at the cuffs of my shirt. It's better to try and regret it than not to try and be executed proud and young.

The Empress's spies can still keep an eye on me, so I wander through the Tik'al's parks for more than an hour. In the darkness that has already set over the world, I devour an unripe and terribly sour mango fruit picked at the fruit greenhouse. I'm pissing in the bushes behind a stone bust of some long-nosed god named, as it says, Chin.

If someone had been watching me, after all this they should have already decided that I was just languishing from idleness, and left me to piss alone.

After walking a couple more blocks and making a few chaotic turns, I go to the same broken tower that adjoins the walls enclosing the perimeter of Tik'al. Through which Kofi and I always sneaked unnoticed to the shamans to steal aura.

I walk stealthily, I look around every now and then, I don't see or hear anyone else, not a sound other than the rustle of leaves and the buzzing of insects. I'm filled with confidence to the very tips of my fingers.

The evening is suffocatingly warm, windless and motionless, and at some point, I start to feel like I'm alone in this whole world. That there are only dark bushes and prickly weeds everywhere, and they are all under my control.

When I finally make out the outlines of the cracked tower walls, my path to freedom, I almost rejoice in my soul. A step and another, and...

And suddenly, I realize that next to the ruins, on a stone left from an old column, and sheltered from the moon by a branch of a spreading cashew tree, someone is sitting.

My heart skipping a beat, I freeze. In the darkness, only a blackening silhouette is visible--hunched and thin, but the head of this silhouette is clearly turned in my direction, which means that the scout knows that I am coming. Waiting.

The hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Did they figure me out? Were they just waiting for me to come here? And if I say I got lost, wandered here by chance? Of course, everyone goes to these outskirts by chance... They won't believe it.

Exhaling disappointedly through my nose, I mentally go over plausible excuses once again, I can't find one, but I still take the last firm step when I come out from behind the branches. I can, of course, run away, but then I started everything in vain--I lost without trying. I should try to talk to the spy and slowly slip past. Into the darkness. It's dangerous to wade through the ruins, and if I choose the right stones, then my chase will simply fall into some hole.

There is no need to slip.

"Y-you?" I lose my words. When the branches no longer block the stone with the spy, and my eyes finally distinguish the shades among the shadows, I realize that in front of me is none other than my mentor. Mentor! Or am I imagining things? "What are you doing here? You're... sleeping."

I feel like I'm slowly going limp. My muscles relax, having lost the stimulus, and either from confusion or relief, fatigue overwhelms me. I'm definitely imagining it.

Because otherwise I have no idea how Tayen can be here! For a moment, I even consider going over and poking Loretto's cheek with my finger, to check if I'm dreaming. Maybe I wanted to go home, but I dozed off somewhere? It happens--you sleep and dream of everything that you were going to accomplish in reality.

At my approach, Loretto begins to rise. Fae stands up slowly, smoothly, as if with a calculated grace, but the fleeting grimace across faer face when fae has to lean with all faer weight on faer feet does not escape my attention. And the dark circles under faer eyes, which have not yet completely disappeared, and faer pursed lips. And a haunted, saddened gleam in faer pupils, as if Loretto is disgusted by faer own weakness.

"I'm not sleeping anymore," Mentor answers with a shrug of one shoulder, and pulls a smile on faer lips. "I haven't been able to sleep soundly for a long time, Eli. And if I don't have nightmares, I can hear everything around me. The second time you left my apartment, your footsteps were... fussier than before." Fae pauses. "Are you going home?"

I still don't understand why Loretto is here. Yes, perhaps a good teacher could have guessed that if I went home, I would go through the ruins--after all, we were in this very tower once, on its top, when Loretto, cruelly but effectively, wanted to leave me alone with aura and thereby make a shaman out of me.

And since Loretto knows about the tower, then obviously, faer knows about the secret passage, too.

Maybe everyone knows about this passage? Since the Empress knows that I'm the brother of a rebel and an aura thief, then she should know how I was engaged in theft. Is that why no spy followed me? Do they need me to go home? To make sure the rebellion is going to happen, and Maricela is going to execute the rebels?

But...someone followed me--my faithful mentor. Why would Loretto want to drag faerself on faer weak feet across the entire Tik'al to find out where I was going? Fae could have sent a shamanic self-incinerating note, and breathe fresh air by faer window.

Does Loretto really think that if I go home, I won't come back? That I was offended because I was kicked out of the bathroom? But then I wouldn't have bothered to wash Loretto's apartment before leaving and wouldn't have set the table!

"Home." I nod, uncertain. I look my teacher up and down again. And belatedly, I realize that my concern is not caused by Tayen's weakness at all.

It's hard to make it out right away in the dark, but Loretto is not wearing some kind of hastily pulled-on house suit (which, like pajamas, my mentor probably doesn't have).

No, Loretto is wearing a stretched, oversized t-shirt and faded jeans--not a robe, not faer favorite old-fashioned pants, but an ordinary, plainblood clothes.

Faer hair is also pulled into a bun on the back of faer head and does not frame faer face as usual, which makes Loretto's cheekbones seem larger and faer forehead higher. There are no rings on faer fingers, no cuffs on faer ears. And faer bare, thin neck is without its usual ribbon. As if stripped of its armor. If I hadn't seen Loretto day after day from all sides, in clothes and without it, with a smile and without it, I would have taken faer for another person. That's why I didn't recognize the silhouette right away. "You look..."

"Like you?"

Corny and bleak. Featureless. Boring! Unlike you at all, and like... me, yes.

"You can't come with me," I blurt out next.

The smile that barely appeared on Loretto's lips melts away. The glitter of faer eyes fades with resentment.

I feel ashamed of such a refusal told someone who clearly put a lot of effort into just getting here, but I still don't see any other way out.

I can't bring Loretto with me into a house full of shamanophobic plainbloods. To my brothers, who always tease every guest with uncomfortable, snide questions, and to my mothers, who always put stinky stewed cabbage on the table, which only disgusts everyone who sees it for the first time.

And if someone does recognize Loretto or sees faer next to my family? There will definitely be a rumor that Tayen is in league with the rebels.

But what's worse, I realize, gloomy, that this is not the first time Loretto has somehow guessed my intentions almost before I did myself. If I hadn't believed the opposite with all my gut, then this time I would've certainly agreed with Faris's idea that, on the orders of the Council--or for some secret personal gain--Loretto seeks my friendship at any cost. Wants to see the whole Montejo family, to get into my house and... I don't know, to find out all the details of Cale's riot as no stray spy could? Or to cut all our throats without noise and witnesses, like Valto's, in sleep? And then frame Maricela? To turn her own plan against her?

No, the fate of the revolution is not in my hands, but my fate is in the hands of Loretto.

And if Tayen is playing a double game against both sides of the conflict, then I can only find out the truth when it's too late to save my burning ass.

Forcing myself, not without effort, to stop sorting through my thoughts and fiddling with the cuff of my shirt, relax and shake my head, I opened my mouth to protest again.

However, Loretto is ahead of me.

"No one will recognize me like this, Eli. I promise," fae says, seemingly gently, but at the same time adamantly. With that note of caring audacity in faer voice that always captivates me. "And if some shamans or patrolmen who visit Tik'al recognizes you in Cabrakan, it will be much easier to unwind my hair and tell them that this was a bad idea of your mentor to take you to the city for... field practice?" Fae shrugs with one shoulder again. "It's easier than explaining later why I do not know where my student disappears at night, and proving to everyone that neither you nor I have hidden anti-imperial motives."

Neither?

As I continue to look confused and sullen, Tayen comes closer to me and, with a quick, sharp movement, pulls out the watch from the pocket of faer jeans on the move. My great-grandfather's golden watch, dangling from a chain that has long lost its radiance and charm. I left it on Loretto's desk as a silent promise that I would be back soon, and apparently, Loretto was not satisfied with this promise.

"And I won't be able to sleep tonight, not knowing where you are and what you're doing," Tayen admits softly, almost guiltily, lowering faer eyelashes. Fae hands the watch to me.

The recent confidence leaves me, filling my lungs with the sticky stuffiness that reigns around. Even in faer tired state, Loretto manages to bewitch me. I was sure that Mentor would not notice my watch at all--and here it is, such a diligent, reverent attention to details. Such a zeal to follow me no matter what. My heart is treacherously skipping beats.

Stupid heart, stupid heart, stupid heart...

I can't give in.

"Okay," I hear myself say, even before my brain seems to agree. A lovesick fool I am.

When, after hesitating, I finally take the watch in faer hand, accidentally touching Loretto's thin palm, I feel Loretto shudder. And then fae immediately smiles again, as if nothing has happened. Faer palm is cold. I want to get nervous again, drag Mentor back to the apartment, wrap faer in a blanket and defensively lie down next to faer.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

Tayen waves my question away, and turns away, and I don't have time to read the emotions on faer face.

"Passable," faer says. And fae goes to the broken steps of the forgotten building. "And you?"

"I'm the one who was stabbed yesterday." I sigh, and follow. I can't imagine how I'm going to make sure that Loretto's trembling legs don't slip in the pitch dark along the fallen stairs. If someone loses faer consciousness, I'll be left to pick up faer pieces.

The only thing that calms me now is that in such a state, even a seductive enemy, whom, it is possible, I foolishly fell in love with, is unlikely to be able to cut the throats of an entire family.

"And I'm still fine, Eli. Would you be able to feel the same?"

"I would lie down without tormenting myself."

Silence.

And, just a moment before slipping into a narrow gap between the stones, inside the tower, Tayen adds from the darkness with a hint of laughter in faer voice, "Even for a walk with me?"

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Loretto turns out to be stronger than fae looks in faer awkward jeans.

Or maybe, as a born shaman, fae just sees better than me in the dark.

Whatever the reason, we make our way through the ruined corridors without incident and without the help of magic. After a break of more than two months, during which I have never stolen aura or walked through the thick darkness of these crumbling halls, I remember every turn surprisingly well. Although I'm worried, the inspired deja vu still tickles my mind as I carefully feel each next stone with my toe and creep down the split steps.

Loretto is right behind me, literally breathing down my neck. Fae repeats my every step, and remains silent. Fae does not teach, as usually is the case, does not question my decisions and steps. Like fae is really some kind plainblood friend, not a teacher. It's flattering and embarrassing at the same time.

It's only when we get to the right hole in the outer wall, and Cabrakan is already stretching beyond it, and it's time to descend the slope of the hill on which the entire Tik'al rises above the rest of our enclave lands, that Tayen mutters something, displeased. Fae stumbles over the roots of trees, and hisses softly.

However, these trees hide our secret passage from the city, and this is important.

But once looking around the street, I'm depressed again, noticing the garbage bins, broken paving stones, and shabby walls of the houses covered with damp mold in the corners. Everything is so dirty, unpleasant...I suddenly want to grimace in disgust, and I don't do it just because I understand that this is how shamans have always walked our streets on their rare business trips--with arrogant disgust.

Have I become one of them? A snob? An arrogant shaman? Maybe today I, not Loretto, will have to pretend.

Even more saddening is that, after sniffing, I realize that the smell of familiar pastries still manages to seep through the litter and devastation. Like a ray of milky light in a veil of darkness. This aroma--vanilla and cream--stretches from a two-story building standing slightly apart from the rest.

The Tres Leches bakery is already closed for the night, but its owner has clearly just baked fresh cakes, which will be soaked in condensed milk all night in order to be ready to attract visitors in the morning.

My mouth involuntarily fills with saliva. Well, at least the smell of my favorite cakes is still as pleasant as it is imprinted in my thoughts. My stomach, remembering the recent maliciously sour mango, begins to rumble with annoyance at this sweet smell.

In order not to hurry to leave, not to dream of the cakes I won't get tonight, I turn around to look at Loretto. Well, or at the place behind my back where I thought Loretto was, to ask fae to hurry off the street. And I involuntarily freeze.

There is no Loretto behind my back.

Loretto, damn you, is already standing on the steps of the bakery! And fae looks inside, putting faer curious palm to faer forehead so that the stars don't shine in the dark window and let faer see what's inside. Fae doesn't even shy away at the sight of dirt under faer feet.

"Loretto, we're in a hurry," I whisper, angry, jumping up quickly. The fragrance of cream and sponge cake hits my nostrils harder, my stomach rumbling louder.

"Where to?" Loretto responds calmly. Fae doesn't even glance at me, but continues to look into the window. "Is there someone waiting for us somewhere?"

My family doesn't know that I'm going to visit, so I can't argue. Loretto is not going to argue about anything, either, because after looking at whatever's inside, fae silently nods to faerself, goes to the door and raises faer hand, on the tips of which inky black sparks of aura immediately begin to form.

Without thinking, I grab Loretto's hand. The sparks fade.

Loretto looks up at me in surprise.

"Plainbloods in jeans don't use magic without amulets, and we're kind of incognito here tonight," I remind faer. "And why do you even need to go inside?"

"I can't come to your house empty-handed for the first time," retorts Tayen. Fae looks at my palm, still holding faer wrist, for a fraction of a second longer than normal surprise requires, and looks up at me again. "If you don't want to see me cast magic, do it yourself. We need a gift."

I swallow hard. Partly from the sweet aroma that inflames my imagination and my tongue, partly from the heartbeat fluttering excitedly somewhere under my throat. I grabbed Loretto's hand without thinking, and it turned out to be too brave of a move. Bold.

Loretto ignores my boldness.

"You're a thief," fae says, nodding at the closed door. "Steal."

"Magic or not, I can't pick locks," I say, swallowing again. Reluctantly, I let go of Loretto's hand. "And even if I could, the owner of the bakery lives in it. If he hears us, he'll make a fuss."

"The owner is sleeping upstairs, he won't hear. And you don't need a lock. We're outside Tik'al now, which means we can teleport. Just walk through the door."

Such an idea did not occur to me. Through... the door? Won't I get stuck in it? Won't its splinters stick into my lungs? Shifting from foot to foot for a couple more seconds, again scanning the street, I turn to the door.

I try to summon aura, but it ain't working. Loretto doesn't move away and stares at me, either intending to turn on faer mentor mode and start giving instructions again, or just staring. Both versions are annoying.

Exhaling, I make another attempt to feel the peaceful, minty flame of aura in my heart. A light among the glaciers. Peace among exposed nerves.

Miraculously, but at some point I don't even notice how aura responds to me. It just does. A barely palpable tingling sensation, akin to touching an electrified blanket in the dark, teases my fingertips. Aura spreads over my palm with a fresh breeze, filling my whole body with excitement and strength.

I'm already ready to draw the necessary rune on the door, allowing aura to transform space and let us pass inside, but this time, Loretto grabs my hand.

I hear rustling behind me.

Steps.

Someone caught us.

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