On the third floor of Silver Willow's base, wooden doors with black metal handles and matching hinges shadowed a long stretch of hall. Some had knockers of all arraying monsters and others did not. Each sconce on the wall held two candles beyond the wooden plates and metal arms reaching out at sharp angles.

Down each stretch of hallway, around every turn and corner, was a fraying rug that had seen better days. Age faded the design; it had once been of dark roses and tree branches that now appeared to be dead and wilting compared to the original form of threading wool fibers together to create such a design.

They passed rooms with propped doors, those that led into libraries, community bathing rooms, a washroom, an unmarked door that when Faine pretended to trip and press her hand on it, didn't open to anything. Locked shut and bolted. Only the boss of Silver Willow had the keys; Ilian let that information slip when Faine asked where all the doors led to. Private chambers, closets, servant residences. Apparently, Celestia had a key that matched every lock.

The base belonging to Silver Willow was much less complicated than Rising Eternity's. This one resembled a base, with straight hallways and hardly any windows. And if they did have them, they were up high and inaccessible unless someone lifted Faine up so she could see through to the outside world. There were secret passageways, and she suspected them to be any number of places, whether nestled behind a hallway table holding a candle arrangement or behind doors that posed as closets.

Ilian wasn't planning on giving all his secrets away right when she'd arrived. There was still plenty to learn about Silver Willow and giving that information away to a stranger came in sprinkles or dollops. Not an overload. Ilian was smarter than that.

In Faine's head, a complicated mess of routes bound itself together. She knew that once they walked up the straight staircase that led towards the third floor, the first thing they saw was a closed door and a lion head knocker. Depending on how many times the servants changed the candles, wax dripped down the walls and had pooled on the wooden floorboards.

They passed that and took a right, then a left around the corner, then another left. The third floor appeared to be a square and in the middle were different residences for each individual member of Silver Willow.

Only the highest ranked in Rising Eternity received private chambers. It was the lesser spies and thieves that shared rooms together and slept on bunks for adequate space. When Faine first started, she'd been in those rooms. Although it had quickly transpired to staying with Kaspar, she kept all her belongings in that shared room in case something ever happened to him. The fear of losing another hung over her head for years until finally, one day, she realized she didn't worry about it anymore as she once did.

By that time, she had her own residence inside the base and could come and go whenever she pleased. Zebulon said she was lucky.

Faine followed Ilian around the corners until she spotted that dripping wax and lion-headed knocker. The staircase leading down was on the other side of the hall, dimmed except for the glow of flickering torches, and she stopped in her tracks. "We've already been here before," she deadpanned.

"Your first test. Passed," Ilian joked, turning around to smirk at her. "Come on, I'll take you to your residence now."

He walked with a confident stride even after she caught his bluff. It was in her blood to observe every little detail for later use; Carlton taught her that when they first met. At a tavern in the middle of Isflean, not in the Palace District or the slums, but in the residential area where middle-class businesses thrived. She had thought nothing of the piece of advice until he said it again and it soaked into her blood like intoxication.

From that day on, she was never the same. Everything changed.

Once Faine's head cleared of the fog she put herself in, she scoffed. At the first recognition of realizing they were circling, she considered bolting and fleeing. It had been her initial thought to run in fear of what Ilian planned next. As she realized it, her heart was thundering and she couldn't see clearly. But it was only a test. Ilian's first, apparently.

"You should consider being more careful with those," Faine warned. "At least allow me to get settled in before you attempt to throw me off course."

"I told you—Silver Willow is dangerous." Ilian stopped in front of a door and pulled a key from his pocket. She'd witnessed Celestia giving that to them before they departed. Not a spare key so he had access to her residence any time he wanted, but her own key. A private residence in Silver Willow. Faine knew she was good, but...this good?

Ilian fit the key into the lock and when it clicked, something in her heart fluttered with excitement. The same thing had happened when she received her private residence at Rising Eternity's base. It was a step up in the world and the first day anyone saw her as anything of value. Although not completely the same, it was better than nothing.

"I'm right next door," Ilian informed. He swung the door open wide and extended his arm for Faine to walk inside. It was unnecessary, she was already stepping onto the wooden floorboards that carried out from the hall and into the room.

It was...smaller than what she had in Rising Eternity but the finery was still there. The bed took up most of the space and the white curtains draped over the top veiled what was on the inside but Faine moved them aside to view the pillows, floral duvet, and sword-crossed headboard. Weapons she might use later. If necessary, of course.

The night tables held unlit candles and a small, empty journal. Faine didn't care that Ilian was watching her as she opened the door to the armoire, found it empty, and squinted at the back. A seam of inconsistency caught her eye, and she tugged on it, only to realize it was a hidden door. Turning back to the mortal, Faine frowned. "There's a passageway here."

"I know." Ilian stepped into the room as if her words granted him entry. "If you follow it, the path goes to my chambers and nowhere else. Trust me, no one will get in or out...unless they go through my chambers first."

Faine squinted into the dark passageway but couldn't make anything out other than cold, slick stone breathing shuddered whispers onto her face. The floor appeared to be wood but was covered in a thin layer of dirt and the walls were the same; dusty and unkempt. No one had come through in ages.

She supposed that was a mercy. If the passageway saw frequent travel, she might consider staying elsewhere or demanding a different residence. The last thing she needed was to have someone kill her for being a new member of the guild. Deeming her worthy was the second step after joining the guild in the first place; standing up to Celestia.

Every drawer in the small dresser in the corner was empty but strapped on the top, Faine spotted the hilt of a dagger and slammed the drawer shut with a frown to act like nothing was there. A second weapon. Whoever had stayed in this residence before was smart.

"You're very...observant," Ilian said from his spot in the doorway. "Most new members just plop down on the bed and wish to take a nap."

Faine spoke without having to think first. "With a life as my own, I've learned to avoid trust. Nothing good comes from it."

"Right." He cleared his throat and his boots scraped on the floorboards. She didn't know what he was doing, whether moving in or out of the residence as she got down on her knees, moving the sheets hanging off the edge of the bed, and peeked underneath. Nothing but dusty floorboards and a small chest towards the head. The lock looked indestructible. "Listen, I'm sorry you had to explain your situation to Celestia. I understand it's hard to relive those memories."

She stood, wiping her hands on her trousers. "Hardened hearts don't feel pain, Ilian. Pain is a weakness and in this line of work, I consider it a death sentence."

Ilian sought false security in tucking his arms against his chest. "Everyone feels pain. That's part of life."

There was nothing Ilian said that she could contest. It was true, she'd experienced enough pain for a lifetime and felt every break of her heart and the slow repair of the wound that spanned months, sometimes years before she fully deemed herself normal again. It was part of life and the main reason many immortals couldn't stand up to time. Too much pain.

"True." She shrugged and turned her full attention towards him. A muscle feathered in his jaw and his handsome face contorted into a soft, innocent boy once Faine laid eyes on him. It was strange, the way he looked upon receiving her stare. As mortals, they were used to bowing down against others but Faine had no importance standing here. He did. "Everyone experiences pain. In this line of work, you cannot display that pain. You must face it alone."

"That's not exactly healthy." Ilian shook his head. "Anyone experiencing silent pain is in more danger than those that express it."

He was wise for a mortal. He spoke like the wizards of old, of the immortals that had been alive long enough to turn to dust in the wind.

"When you live a life of abuse, your only way of shedding away that pain is in silence. The world frowns on emotion. You'll learn soon enough; you're still young." She waved him off and turned to the shut door on the other side of her new residence. It resembled the door to the hall, but without the simple knocker and metal handle.

There was no lock and with a simple push from Faine's hand, the door opened. A tub, a sink, and a toilet crammed together on the other side. The only space was in the middle of the bathing room and even then, a rug was on the floor and halfway up the leg of the tub from lack of space. Faine frowned. This was nothing compared to what she had at Rising Eternity.

"I may be young, but I know plenty," Ilian defended. "I know I'm not supposed to ask this, but how old are you?" Faine raised her eyebrows at him and his cheeks heated. "Fine, how old do I have to be to learn this much about life?"

She pointed a finger at him and grinned. "Better. You have to be at least one hundred and fifty, closer to one hundred and seventy-five but either will work." She shrugged.

"I don't think I'll make it that far," he joked.

Faine laughed. No, he wouldn't. Not unless he gave into the immortal life any beast of that status could provide. If she wanted to, and if he was willing, Faine could turn him into an immortal mortal at that moment—in her new residence. There wasn't a better name for them, no one cared to provide it as mortals were too frowned upon for anyone to care.

Silence stretched through the small room and it was suddenly clear to Faine that thoughts were being had without her. Ilian's mind was pouring over what to say next, some kind of apology about her fake abusive husband. She waited and was hoping to get it over with when he tilted his head down, the black hairs falling over his forehead.

"How long were you married?" he asked quietly.

She hadn't come up with an exact number. "Too long." Her story could be altered with any number. More time and they sympathized her. Less—she became stronger than she wanted these people to believe.

The smartest thing Faine could do was fully melt into the story she created. Allow herself to be frightened, allow Ilian to get on her nerves and allow herself to feel uncomfortable with certain ways of gathering information. The history was a crutch she planned to use with efficiency.

"Besides that..." Ilian's voice drifted off. He wasn't skilled at subject changes. "Every new member must take part in certain duties to help improve the base. I'm assigning you to kitchen duty in the mornings."

"You're assigning me?" Faine glared at him. "Not Celestia, your boss? You're the one that makes the orders?"

"Every new member is a shadow. Meaning you'll shadow me over the next few weeks until you prove yourself to be skilled enough to work on your own." He shrugged like that was simple. It wasn't. That meant she'd have to be up his ass the entire time or it'd be suspicious. The mortal man intruding on her personal residence would monitor every move she made. At least it felt that way. "That's the way Silver Willow works. I didn't make the rules."

Faine crossed her arms over her chest. "Who gets to pick?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Who gets to pick the shadows, or whatever. Do you? Or Does Celestia pick them?"

His eyes darted around the room. Avoiding the subject of looking at her in any capacity was something Faine would have to get used to. Men in Pinedon were known for their chivalry but the ones that suffocated on it...she couldn't stand to be around them. One more awkward and forcedsmile from Ilian and she might've deemed this mission harder than it needed to be.

"Figuring I was the one that brought you in, Celestia wishes for you to shadow me," Ilian said carefully.

Faine dragged her tongue over the inside of her lip. "Fine, I'll be in the kitchens tomorrow. In return, I need a servant to gather some clothes. I stole money before I left, so I'll be able to cover it." She fished around in her pocket and pulled out two silver coins. It was enough for a few shirts and trousers, as well as a new pair of boots. She dropped the coins into Ilian's palm.

"That's unnecessary; I can pay for it." Ilian extended the coins back out to her.

She narrowed his eyes, stepping close and past his extended reach with the coins clutched in the warm ivory of his palm. There was something about Ilian she couldn't place, what made him so intriguing as a mortal, but she had no doubt she'd figure it out within the next few days. Mortals were never so comfortable or kind towards their counterparts. It wasn't in their blood to forgive and forget. They held grudges and forgot about their originality, only to never speak to the person on the other end again.

Very quietly, Faine said, "That's not necessary. I can pay for myself." She threw his words right back in his face. That's unnecessary. Neither was the coddling. Not from him.

His lips parted as if to speak but Ilian knew better. The beginning of their relationship went back and forth—they didn't trust each other. While she was doing whatever it took to figure him out, he was doing the same. Though a feliram, with many layers compared to the simple life of a human, had the advantage.

"Be down in the kitchens before dawn," was all he said before stepping away and shutting the door behind him.

Faine frowned at the door but turned back to the dresser in as long as it took for Ilian's warmth to disappear. She felt it against the back of her hand but hadn't registered the feeling until it was disappearing and being left cold and alone was more noticeable than when life was handing out love and warmth.

The dagger was fairly easy to remove from the top of the dresser. She twisted the blade in her hands and smirked down at the carving of a mermaid along the handle. Before she did anything else, she stuffed that underneath her pillow and moved to loosen the twin swords at the head of her bed frame. She weakened their hold but kept them secured tight with a slit of string taken from the corner of the duvet—at the bottom and covered when she stuffed it underneath the feather mattress.

Outside in the hall, Ilian's steps receded into his chambers and a second later, the door shut. She heard him still, walking around until he went into his bathing chamber. Each sound came through the secret tunnel connecting their two rooms and Faine sealed it shut by placing small wooden wedges chipped from the bottom of the bedframe—cut with the dagger she found—between the small cracks. No one would get in or out, indeed.

Once she finished securing the room, chipping the hinges of the door and weakening the floorboards in front of it, Faine tore off her dirty clothes and soaked in the tub. She washed her hair with a citrus-scented soap and scrubbed her body with a bar that smelled of lemon verbena. By the time she completed what was the most important task on the list, the water had turned a murky brown.

The mirror over the sink held the truth to her identity. The feliram staring back at her was now part of two crime guilds in the land of Pinedon. She wasn't certain what frightened her more. The fact that she was alone and away from home, or that every eye in the base was expecting to see her the next day. The two had a divine correlation.

It didn't take long for the servant to arrive with a change of clothes, promising more in the next few days. Faine handed over what she was wearing before and shrugged on the grey tunic and fitting trousers. The undergarments were hardly anything special and Faine frowned at the plain band over the top. Nothing like what she was used to wearing.

One last check of the room as the sun set outside. There was no window to her chambers, so Faine lit the candle on her night table and stuck it inside the sconce on the wall. As she laid there in bed, staring at the flickering candle, she knew sleep wouldn't come easy. Not here. Not ever. Not when someone she cared for dearly had slept in the same building, only to never return.