Krayson looked up towards the early morning sky. Clouds spread above him in a blanket of formless gray. The staff within the Salt Stone Palace spoke of the overcast weather being a sign of a coming storm season. They were already making plans to close off this garden from the seaside view it enjoyed. Before those plans could be put into motion, Krayson needed to examine the area for any insight into the fate of Prince Dashar.

    The garden was encircled on three sides by palace walls. The southern facing side overlooked the cliffs above the breaking waves. A stone path ran in a wide circle, five benches spaced evenly along the circumference and a shattered sepulcher at the center. The flowers and bushes within the garden remained lush and green, the product of climate-controlling wards. Even so, the air felt as cold as anywhere else in Altier Nashal.

    Krayson rechecked his warmth spells to make sure they were functioning properly. Even with a two-line couplet placing the spell, he still felt a chill leaking through to his skin. It astounded him to see Pacifica walking about without a coat and in a low-cut dress, all while calling the weather balmy.

    I will never come here in winter, he promised himself.

    "Understood, Lady Executioner," Starra said to the sending spirit she conferred with. "If we learn anything further, Brother Joshuan will contact you."

    "At late hours only, my lady," Zanda's voice replied. "I cannot guarantee privacy until after midnight, and the wards around the palace make it difficult to find a secure area where a sending can be received."

    "As you say."

    The spirit passed on the closing couplet of Zanda's sending before fading from Krayson's witch sight. Once it was gone, he looked to Starra and found her holding her chin in her hand and frowning.

    "The skindancer is already in the City of Althandor," he restated.

    Starra grunted, deep in thought.

    "It might be our reason for being here has just been removed. If we know where the skindancers are, there is little else of use we can learn."

    Starra glanced his way. "Eager to get out of the cold, Brother Joshuan?"

    "Thunders, aren't you?"

    "You'll find that vampires aren't as sensitive to temperature as mortals, dear one." She got an odd look on her face after she said that and pursed her lips. "Brother Joshuan, would you mind terribly if I called you something else?"

    "Other than Brother Joshuan?"

    She sighed in vexation. "Daft boy. No, other than dear one. I feel like that should be reserved for... err..."

    "For Reyn?"

    Starra planted her fists on her hips and faced him. "Just what are you inferring?"

    Krayson blinked. "I implied. You inferred."

    "Ah. Yes, I suppose you're right. I do get those mixed up now and then." Her red eyes grew stormy. "Then just what the bloody hell are you implying?"

    "Nothing at all," Krayson said flatly. "Only that you've been preoccupied since last evening, and you were speaking with Minister Reyn before you met with us to teleport here. I made the assumption the two were related. My apologies."

    Starra huffed and turned away. "Very well. If you must know... I'm flustered."

    "Flustered?"

    "Yes, bloody dunderhead, I'm bloody flustered. That girl... That insidious, feckless, bloody gorgeous girl got the better of me."

    "Is invoking blood a vampire thing or a Japaxian thing?"

    "It's a bloody Starra thing, so shut your yap hole!" She kept her back to him and stared out at the sea. Starra was breathing heavily with her frustration, and she waited until she'd calmed herself somewhat before continuing. "She bested me. Thoroughly. I could hardly stand upright when she confessed her feelings for me. Bloody hell, but I've been confessed to by more than my fair share of pretty girls. I was a regular heart-breaker in my travels. Japax, Gaulatia, Althandor, even an Altieri girl once. I'm not bragging, mind you, only making it clear that I've experience in this sort of thing."

    "You love her?" Krayson asked in surprise.

    "Posh," Starra scoffed. "Hush that nonsense. Only... I've never felt what I would call love. Infatuation, certainly. Desire, all the time. I'd even say I've felt a fair measure of affection for all of my paramours. This... This is different." She swallowed, and her voice grew soft. "This is more."

    "And you fear yourself incapable. Vampires don't lose emotion to blood magic, do they?"

    "I've been a blood mage since before my mother popped me out," Starra said, her voice on the verge of breaking. "Blood magic is a part of what I am. Would I even know?"

    Krayson felt at his chest. "You would," he murmured. "I know you would know. Inexperience with strong emotion doesn't suggest incapability. Only inexperience. Blood magic cannot kill something so integral to being human as emotion. All it does is make it harder to find."

    Starra turned and looked at him with shock. "Brother Joshuan," she gasped. "This from you?"

    He blushed and averted his eyes.

    "From you? That's five times now you've left me breathless. By the Law of Five, you mustn't do it again, or this spell you've placed over me might become unstable enough to unravel."

    "What spell?" Krayson said, wrinkling his nose.

    "This obvious witchery you've enchanted me with to see you as my friend." She laughed at how his blush deepened. "Truly, Krayson, thank you. Whether I love Reyn or not, it means just as much to hear you call me..."

    Krayson looked back at her when her sentence trailed off into nothing. "Call you what?"

    Starra sniffed and wiped her eyes. She looked up with the brightest smile he'd ever seen her wearing. "Human."

    Krayson felt a ghost of something he once thought lost. He'd learned that what was dead could come back; it'd only needed a tether. His connection to others served as the tether to bind his ghosts to his soul once more. It made him happy to see Starra smile.

    "Call me Krayson, Starra," he said.

    "Careful. You're dangerously close to making me reevaluate my preference for women. Only two men before you have managed that."

    "Anyone I know?"

    "I should say so. You carried the bloodsong of one of them for quite some time."

    "The Merovech?" Krayson exclaimed. "He was three times your age!"

    "Oh stop. Twice my age, and he was awfully charming. Keep in mind, I said reevaluate my courting preference, not change it. Ambrose wasn't the sort to dally with a student in any case, no matter how often I caught him eyeing my backside. He was a paragon of masculine restraint and gallantry."

    Krayson snorted. "As you say. And the other?"

    "Lord Ban, naturally."

    "Really?"

    "Oh, I should say so. I've seen the man without his shirt, and let me tell you, even I was hard-pressed to remember I prefer a bosom on my bare chests. The abdominals on that boy..." She shook her head. "Bloody hell. Praise the essence of all spirits that dear Moon is more than happy to kiss and tell."

    On an academic level, Krayson was intrigued. "How do those two..."

    Starra raised an eyebrow.

    "The logistics seem... Rippling Moon is rather small in comparison."   

    "Oh, nothing fancy. Like a heavyset lord climbing into his steam carriage. You wouldn't think he'd fit, but he takes a deep breath, tugs down on his coat, and there you go. He's in."

    Krayson grimaced. That'd been more... graphic... than he wanted to hear.

    "Must feel marvelous once he is, I expect. And I'd wager the carriage will wobble when it tries walking afterwards."

    "That's quite enough," Krayson said, holding up a palm. He doubted he'd ever look at steam carriages in the same way again. "Let's just take one last look at the evidence and see if there's anything we can find of use for the Executioner."   

    Starra clapped her hands. "Yes. To the task at hand. I'd prefer to wait until our lovely assistants showed up, but time may be an issue."

    They didn't need to wait long for Pacifica and Saveen to return. Krayson had only just begun looking through the remnants of Dashar's tomb again when they entered into the garden. Saveen held Pacifica's arm against her as they walked, and the princess' eyes were on the ground in front of her.

    Starra left her examination of the garden's wards behind and went to Pacifica at once. "My dear, was it as you feared?"

    "Yes," Pacifica said, her voice hoarse from weeping. "Lidya and Margo. I couldn't... If not for their clothes, I wouldn't have been able to tell it was them. What kind of monster could do such a thing?"

    Starra pulled her into a hug. She included Saveen in it as well. "Hush now. We will see justice done. I promise you."   

    "Like empty leather sacks," Pacifica murmured, holding tight to Starra. "Not a trace of blood."

    Krayson furrowed his brow as he listened then looked back to the broken sepulcher. The inside of Dashar's tomb, where he'd lain in repose, was lined with white velvet. The  material was stained with both dust and splashes of blood.

    This will be unpleasant for Pacifica to hear, but the fact is I don't know enough about the races of shifter.

    He straightened from where he'd been crouching down and approached the others. "Starra, there are a few details I need clarified."

    She nodded and stepped back from Pacifica. "You needn't be here for this."

    "No, I do," Pacifica replied firmly.   

    "Me, too," Saveen declared. "Find the blaggards and bring them back to Ecclesia for trial."

    Starra pursed her lips. "That is Her Majesty's wish, but I have serious doubts about skindancers being so accommodating. Just between us four, I have every intention of interpreting Enfri's command concerning the treatment of skindancers... rather broadly."

    Pacifica frowned. "You'll hear no protests."

    "Good girl. And so, Krayson, what did you want me to clarify?"   

    "Shifters, in general," he said. "Skindancers in particular. By what method do they assume a new form?"

    "Ghastly methods. First, they kill their victim. How they do it will vary from dancer to dancer. Many are pragmatically merciful, slaying their victims quickly, often before they even realize a danger. Less risk of being discovered, you see. A few, yet still far too many, make sport out of the act. They relish every scream." She touched Pacifica's shoulder. "The Romov maids were fortunate. Their murderers came to Ecclesia on a mission. They likely never felt a thing."

    "Arcane abilities?" Krayson asked.

    "Not in the traditional sense. Proteurim are incapable of becoming arcanists as we know them. Instead, they possess the boons granted to them by the old masters. A malleable physiology, unparalleled natural talent in mimicry, and their most deadly weapon."

    "Which is?"

    "Venom," Pacifica answered in Starra's place. "A skindancer possesses a bone-like spur on the inside of each wrist. It injects a powerful neurotoxin that kills instantly."

    "Not your standard sort of toxin," Starra added. "It possesses properties similar to a Dekaam. You could say it severs the imprint connections between the soul and the body. The venom then begins to break down the victim's body, all but dissolving the innards and leaving the skin unharmed."

    "Is there any defense against the venom?" Krayson asked.

    Starra shook her head. "Oren perhaps, but I've never met a royal assassin willing to put it to the test. Fortunately, skindancers are seldom skilled in combat. They are infiltrators and deceivers, not warriors. Any assassin who's passed Queen Maebh's muster is more than a match for one. Other than that, nothing but time. From what information Ambrose could gather on skindancers, it takes approximately seven days before they produce enough venom for another injection."

    "Seven, you say? Unlucky."

    "The number seven is the old master's signature," Starra agreed. "As with the spirits and five, the demons with seven."

    Saveen listened to it all with a look of deep concentration. "Master?"

    "What is it, Saveen?" Krayson asked.

    "There were two skindancers."

    Krayson nodded. He thought he knew what Saveen was about to point out. It was one of several details that was bothering him about the situation.

    Saveen looked around the garden. "If they came disguised as Pacifica's maids, who did they leave as?"

    "Prince Dashar, for one," Pacifica said.   

    "Which Zanda the Executioner confirmed," Starra said. "At least one of the beasts is now in the Spired City posing as the crown prince."

    "So who did the other leave as?" Saveen asked.

    "And that's the question of the hour," Starra groused. "We've been asking around since last evening, and no one else appears to be missing."

    "It's possible they brought a skin with them into the palace," Pacifica said. "One for the skindancer who didn't become Dashar to leave with."

    Saveen gasped and began looking around the garden through wide, fearful eyes.

    "What is it?" Starra asked, taking the dragonet's hand.

    Her blue skin pale, Saveen met her gaze. "What if it never left?"

    Starra's lips parted, and her expression transformed into one of barely contained fury as she bared her fangs. "Pacifica, send an urgent command to your entire staff. No one is to move around the Salt Stone Palace alone under any circumstances until further notice. It's been two weeks since that thing killed last, so it's ready to do it again."

    Pacifica nodded. She took Saveen's hand and pulled her along as she left the garden.

    Krayson called after them. "Good thinking, Saveen. Keep your witch sight open. You and the princess watch each other's backs."

    Despite herself, Saveen beamed at him. "As you say, master."

    "Don't worry, Brother Joshuan," Pacifica assured him with a smile. "I'll look after your apprentice."

    Krayson nodded to her.

    Once they were gone, Starra hissed and muttered under her breath. "Bloody fool. I should've seen it sooner."

    "There's no point in self-recrimination," Krayson said. "How can we identify who the skindancer is? There must be a way. The mimicry can't be perfect."

    "It isn't," Starra said, releasing her anger in a long exhale. "People are complex things, and no imitation can capture them perfectly. A skindancer looks like their victim, and if they're smart, they don't take the skin until they've observed them interacting with others and learned some of what makes them... them."

    "Making it likely that the skindancer chose a victim few would know well enough to spot an imposter."

    Starra nodded. "That is their standard way of doing things. The maids were a risk. Well-known, but able to access the parts of the palace the skindancers needed to enter. As to other methods to spot a skindancer, there are ways to screen for them."

    "I'm listening."

    "A skindancer's blood is black and releases a foul vapor. Also, they cannot heal the skins they've taken. Anyone unwilling to let us give them a small knick with a knife must be detained at once. Furthermore, an arcanist who has suddenly become unable to use spellcraft should be under suspicion."

    Krayson nodded thoughtfully. "Good. It'll be easier to screen the palace staff than I assumed."

    "Quite so. A skindancer's advantage lessens significantly as soon as it becomes known there's a skindancer around. But there is another problem Saveen might have only been partially correct."

    "How do you mean?"

    "The second skindancer might not have left with the Dashar imposter, but that doesn't mean it's still within Ecclesia."

    Krayson nodded in understanding. "King Sasha's retinue. All seven thunders, it could be with the legion already."   

    "The king arrived in Moran Valley with a detachment of one hundred from the Lost Company, a dozen lords and ladies from Ecclesia's houses, his personal staff, and Lady Ascania Karst."

    Krayson looked to where Pacifica had left the garden with Saveen. "Any one of them, including her twin brother or her mother of the heart could already be dead and replaced."

    Starra sighed. "She's as intelligent a young woman as I've ever known, and she has the elder insight of her bloodline. I wouldn't put it past her that she's already realized the possibility by now."

    Krayson's atrophied sense of sympathy stirred. He felt somewhat responsible for Pacifica ever since he helped bring her back to life. "All we can do for her is allay her fears by finding the skindancer here and prove it hasn't taken someone else she cares for."

    "We're agreed, then. My apologies, but we're not leaving the cold weather just yet."

    "To ease my own mind, are their limits to the size of the victim a skindancer can impersonate?"

    "Meaning, can they take a dragon's skin? I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that. I would think not; even proteurim must adhere to Dunnlyth's laws of thermodynamics. There is a physical body underneath their stolen skins, after all, and they can't just make themselves bigger from nothing."

    "But even that isn't a certainty. Physical laws can be worked around."

    "At the least, Saveen has used her polymorphy and Pacifica her spellcraft around us. They're both still themselves."

    Krayson let himself feel a measure of relief. "I wouldn't want to lose either of them."

    Starra held out her hand and formed a somatic. A burst of spellfire flared from her palm. She smiled at how he blinked at her in confusion. "Just to confirm I'm still me as well. Now, I noticed you frowning at something over by the sepulcher as if it owed you money. Care to show me?"

    Krayson nodded and led the way towards Dashar's final resting place. He pointed out the blood-stained velvet. "When Pacifica said the maids' skins had no blood on them, it made me reconsider these stains."

    "Ah," Starra murmured. "You're right there's something odd here, but it's not the presence of blood. It's that there's so little of it. If a skindancer took Dashar's skin here, it would've left a mess behind. Half-dissolved entrails, rotting bones, all manner of nastiness." She bent to sniff at the blood. "Yes, this also lacks another sign of skin-taking. The creature's venom has a strong and sharp scent, like corrupted cinnamon. True, it's been some time and a vampire's sense of smell isn't as pronounced as other shifters', but even a mortal should be able to smell something of it if it were present."

    Krayson frowned. "Other shifters..."

    "Oh, did I trigger a thought in that head of yours?"

    "Maybe. It could be we're making assumptions. Is it possible we're not dealing with a skindancer at all? Aren't there other shifters capable of impersonating a specific human?"

    "Dopplers," Starra said. "Harpies and kits, also, in a limited fashion."

    "Tell me of them. I know little about shifters aside from vampires and selkies."

    "We're not dealing with a harpy," Starra said. "They can only imitate a living mortal. Once the mortal dies, the harpy's disguise would vanish and leave them exposed. In any case, harpies are the most consistent among shifters for hating the old masters. I highly doubt one would knowingly serve them, even indirectly through Vintus."

    "Allies to us then?"

    "Yes and no. Harpies keep to themselves and rarely assimilate into human societies. My knowledge is first-hand, you see. Japax alone has three different harpy enclaves. Lovely people. When not imitating someone, they can only be in their natural form, and folk with bat wings instead of arms tend to draw the wrong sort of attention. However, approach them respectfully and you won't find a more welcoming group of people. Be prepared to be asked to share your appearance with a few of them if you do. They do so enjoy trying out new bodies."

    Krayson hummed as he imagined standing among a half-dozen Kraysons. He thought it would be an odd if interesting experience. Another thought occurred to him. "Starra..."

    "Have I ever shagged myself?" Starra laughed. "As if I'd admit it."

    He grimaced. "I was going to ask if the shifters guarding the Reach Enclave may be harpies."

    "Possible," Starra said. "Probable, even. Harpies are very social."

    "What about kits?"

    "Less social. Bloody solitary, even. The best sense of smell and hearing among shifters no matter what form they take. Besides skindancers, they may be the least numerous of us. I've only met four in my travels."

    "And they can also disguise themselves as a human?"

    Starra nodded. "A kits' natural form is unique among us in that they're wholly animalistic. They could appear as a wolf, a hound, or a fox. Always some manner of canine, albeit one with multiple tails. Any mortal they see, living or dead, they can change into. However, their skills of mimicry are imperfect and are easily spotted. I'd go so far as to say they're more like dragons than the others; they prefer to craft a new and unique form from a repertoire of features they observe rather than resemble a specific person."

    "Like Saveen, then," Krayson said. "Her human form was taken from a Teulite girl she saw near her and Trell's lair, though she altered it to suit her needs."   

    "And if the imposter Dashar was convincing enough to fool House Algara, it's extremely doubtful he's a kits. We can also rule out a selkie. Reyn's natural form wouldn't look much different from her human one. She can make minor adjustments to the structure and pigmentation, but little else aside from her legs."

    Krayson noted a glaring omission from Starra's lecture. "And vampires?"

    She laughed. "Oh, we can't change forms at all. The loveliness you see before you is due entirely to the incomparable genetics of House Nolaas. Vampire shifting is more subtle."

    "How so?"

    Starra got a mischievous grin, then she leaped into Krayson's arms, kicking up her feet to be carried as a bride. Krayson caught her by reflex and prepared to be bowled to the ground by her weight. He staggered and blinked in surprise. Starra weighed no more than her clothing.

    She put her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Mass," she said. "Vampires shift effective mass. We can become light as a feather, or..." That look of mischief returned.

    Krayson hastily dropped her. She landed adroitly on her feet as if gravity had little effect.

    "Or, we can increase our weight by a significant factor. You might recall my heroics at Mount Vorti in subduing Draxa the Inamorata. That ivory harlot didn't appreciate someone as dainty as me but weighing as much as her settling on her back."

    Krayson brushed his hands over his half-robe. "A demonstration wasn't necessary."

    "But entertaining, admit it. Weres can only become beasts they've absorbed parts of, a deceptively powerful trait as their natural human-like form takes on some of the ability of the animals they assimilate, becoming stronger in both body and senses. That leaves the last possibility other than skindancers and the most likely candidate if Dashar was taken by a different race of shifter."

    "Dopplers," Krayson said.

    "The changelings, as they often call themselves," Starra said. "Now there is a race of shifter with a powerful ability. In the ancient times, before their race intermingled with human blood, the proteurim dopplers were a truly unique form of life. Back then, their natural form would look like nothing more than a pool of slime."

    Krayson made a disgusted face.

    "Be kind to dopplers, Krayson. As the ages passed, they bore children while taking mortal form. Their proteurim blood became diluted by mortal parents, and today, dopplers have natural bodies little different from yours or mine.

    "Very intelligent. Very wise. And in the end, very compassionate. Unlike skindancers, dopplers never truly saw the humans they became as food or simple disguises. For them, becoming someone is an incredibly profound experience. They require blood, a single drop, and they form an immediate and powerful connection to the imprint of the imitated. All their memories, all that they are, is laid bare to them. According to the dopplers I name among my friends, everything about the one whose blood they take, the good and the bad, is revealed. Can you imagine knowing someone so completely, Krayson? Would it truly be possible to feel anything but love for someone you come to understand so thoroughly in a single moment?"

    Krayson thought about it. "I can't imagine."

    "Neither can I. My friends make it sound so... evanescent. Once the form is abandoned, so too are the memories, hopes, and dreams of who they'd been. All that remains is the love they felt for who they were."

    "So, the imposter Dashar could be a doppler. No one would be better able to imitate him in front of his family."

    "It's possible," Starra said. "The imposter would have Dashar's memories, his skills, and his magic. His elder magic, even."

    "What of his blood magic?" Krayson asked.

    "Excuse me?" Starra gasped.

    "Dashar was a blood mage," Krayson explained. "He attempted transmutational healing to save his wife. Both Enfri and Princess Jin confirmed this to me."

    "I see," Starra whispered. "If that's the case, I can't imagine a doppler could have become Dashar. You see, Krayson, once a doppler becomes a blood mage, their own imprint is cracked in such a way that it can no longer form connections to other imprints. Become a blood mage and they will never be anything else. That form becomes their last, trapped in a single form for the rest of their life. To a doppler, a creature dependent upon the ability to change, that would be little different than dying."

    Krayson chewed his lip. "I can't help but wonder if one might be willing to accept the price."

    "All this is merely speculation," Starra said. "The fact remains, two maids were killed by skindancer venom at the same time. There were without a doubt two skindancers here. The most likely explanation for the lack of blood in the sepulcher is that the skindancers carried Dashar's body away to take his skin elsewhere. Doing it here would leave them exposed for longer than they'd want."

    "What left the blood, then?" Krayson asked.

    "Dashar himself. He was wounded, and if I understand Altieri funeral practices, they wouldn't have embalmed his remains."

    "You're right. They cover the body with alchemical investitures to guard against decomposition until it can be placed on a pyre."

    "I'd understand if your head's swimming from examining all the angles. As if solving a small mystery wasn't hard enough, adding in shifter abilities only makes it more difficult."

    Krayson was still struggling to absorb all this new information. "The world is a stranger place than I used to think, and I already thought it was rather strange."

    "Variety is infinite," Starra said with a shrug.

    "Reyn once said the same thing to me."

    "Did she now? Great minds think alike."

    "And fools seldom differ," Krayson muttered. "But in this case, I believe you two are correct. I think you're well-suited to each other."

    Starra pursed her lips. "It bothers me that I'm pleased to have your approval. Takes some of the fun of an illicit affair off the table."

    "Get used to it," Krayson chuckled. "More people than you want to know have become invested in you settling down with Reyn."

    "Settle?" Starra squawked. "The nerve. The utter gall."

    Krayson raised an eyebrow. "Ah yes, Reyn had similar opinions. Polyamory, was it? An understanding that neither of you will guarantee the other will be the only one to share your bed?"

    Starra scowled at him. "I feel you're drawing wrong conclusions, but I can't settle on what they might be."

    "Both of you can separate physical intimacy from emotional intimacy. You might rendezvous with Fallen of Frozen Waters, Reyn might hire a prostitute, but you both know with whom your heart lies."

    "Huh," Starra grunted. "Or you might be drawing correct ones. It's rather more nuanced than that, but essentially correct. We don't feel the need to be possessive of each others' nethers. It's respect, Krayson, and trust. Just as deep and fulfilling as monogamy, I believe." Starra shrugged. "I'll confess I'm the slightest bit jealous that someone else may get to experience my dear one before I have the chance, but I'm fully aware I don't own her. Besides, I'll simply have to make certain she learns I'm the only one who can make her squirm as..."

    Krayson held up his palm again. "That's quite enough. Physical intimacy isn't a concept I care to dwell on."

    Starra gave him a sly grin. "To each their own, but I adore sex. If you ever decide you'd like to learn more, I imagine my dear one and I could give you an exhilarating demonstration."

    "I've no wish to observe your love making."

    "Who said observe? I meant you could participate. If you want, of course. No pressure."

    Krayson felt his face turning red enough to match his robe. Though, he did suppose if he were to experiment, he wasn't likely to receive a more generous offer. He wasn't one to fixate on physical attractiveness, but even he recognized that Reyn and Starra were considered remarkable by most. Krayson imagined there'd be a large number of people his age who'd beat him senseless for not jumping at the opportunity to rendezvous with both at once.

    "I'll take it into consideration," Krayson said diplomatically.

    Starra hummed in amusement. "I suppose that's the best I'll ever get from you. I'll chalk this exchange up as a win. Sexuality aside, I still have much to teach you of romance."   

    "That, I'd be more willing to listen to," Krayson allowed.

    "Oh? You don't say? Well, I can tell you for certain there are interested parties. You did come into the empress' legion in dramatic fashion, after all. It's no wonder you've garnered a handful of admirers."

    "I have? Who?"

    "Not for me to say. Sworn to secrecy, in fact. As are our apprentices, so don't bother asking them." She tapped her finger against her chin in consideration as she looked him over. "Disinclined towards sex, curious about romance. I do believe there's a label for that."

    "Demiromantic asexual," Krayson said. "At least tentatively, as I understand them. I've done the reading, but I think I agree with Reyn that labels are inconsequential. Everyone's experience is unique."

    Starra clasped her hands over her chest and cooed. "Oh, I am getting to like you more the longer I spend time with you." She came towards him with a smile on her face and took him by the shoulders. "Whatever you decide, I wish you all the happiness you can find. Whether it's on your own or with another, may your life be fulfilling. I meant what I said, Krayson. I consider you my friend."

    Feeling embarrassed, Krayson averted his gaze. "The same to you."

    "I'd hug you if I didn't think you'd start on fire."

    "Might be preferable to this cold," Krayson muttered, pulling his robe tighter around him. "So, what next? Begin screening the palace staff?"

    "I'll hold them down while you swing the knife. If black smoke comes out, pyromancy. Before we start, though, someone ought to tell the empress."