The loud blast from a horn came too early in the morning. Faine raised her head off the mattress and wiped the drool away from the corner of her mouth. Was it time to rise already? A horn usually meant first call, those in the base that worked extra shifts had to be at their posts to prepare for the day. Faine groaned when she realized that horn blast was meant for her.

She propped herself up, pressing her palms onto the silk sheets, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Every part of her body was stiff with how hard she slept, and she hated herself for it. If someone had tried to attack her through the night, surely she wouldn't have heard the squeal of the hinges or the creak of weight on the floorboards. After those nights of not sleeping in the woods and choosing to listen to sinwolves instead, she needed a night of proper sleep. But not dangerously deep that the world beyond vanished.

The splash of cold water on her face didn't help. She dragged two hands down her cheeks and looked at her reflection in the mirror, snarling at the unkempt and knotted strands of her moon-silver hair. With a brush she found in her night table, she pulled the strands behind her head and tied them with a leather string. Her piercings were on display as was her pointed ears sticking out like flags against the sides of her head. She snarled at that, too.

A simple movement of pulling boots over her feet was exhausting. Her hands were sore when she laced them together over her trousers and looked to the pillows longingly. No one else was awake, why did she have to be? Then again, the quicker she learned Silver Willow's operation, the quicker she went back to Rising Eternity and waited out the four months.

The hallway was empty when she stepped out. For being early morning, the air was cold and stale, as if no one had passed through all night. That was a mercy.

Instead of heading directly for the kitchens that she knew would be on the ground floor, Faine circled the entire third floor. She examined the doors, tugged on handles, and stomped extra hard on rugs to search for hidden compartments underneath. Nothing she could check within the few seconds of passing, but the opportunity to return during the middle of the night kept her checking.

Her fingers ran along the walls and searched for cracks or grooves that might lead to hidden passageways. Nothing yet. How was there a passageway between two random chambers, but not out in the main part of the base? There had to be a significance to the passageways, Faine supposed, but why only there?

Why wasn't the other side of her chambers connected to that of the other room beside hers? She mulled over those thoughts and pretended to kick up a corner of the rug in search of a hidden compartment but found nothing of significance other than dust underneath. She frowned. This was a waste of time. Not only that, but someone was waiting down in the kitchens to give her instructions, and if she didn't get there soon...

It wasn't until she wandered down to the second floor, avoiding the fourth for lack of knowledge, that Faine realized she needed to be careful. The halls were crawling with important figures, she'd passed a few of them and kept her head down, and if she remembered the route correctly, she was closing in on Celestia's study. The last thing she needed was to face questioning. But to test out her memory skills, she found the study and continued on with a proud smirk on her face. At least that was done right.

The library on the second floor was empty, but the endless rows of books were there to grab attention. The chaise lounges and velvet chairs were of fine make, fancier than that of the high elf family, and Faine considered spending her evenings cuddled up with a blanket draped over her body, a book in her hands. No, mission first. Then relaxation.

Faine turned down a dark and empty hallway, only to come to a dead end. The door there was sealed shut and when she yanked on the handle, it didn't budge. She turned on her heel, prepared to head in the other direction when she came face to face with Ilian. The gasp that left her throat was embarrassing enough, but the hand she clamped over her chest, followed by a quick stumble of her own feet was worse.

"What the hell?" she snapped.

He was standing there, directly behind her in a white shirt, a waistcoat buttoned over the front. The sleeves were rolled to the middle of his forearms and leather boots, shined, captured the ankle of his trousers.

A dark brow arched and he looked between her and the door. "What are you doing? That's a supply closet. There's nothing of importance there," he said.

"I'm looking for the kitchens. You don't have to sneak up on me like that, you know. If you're following me, just tell me."

He snorted. "That's not exactly the best way to do my job, is it? You're supposed to be my shadow. Therefore, I'm to watch you as much as you watch me. Besides, I planned to escort you to the kitchens."

Now that her racing heart was settling, Faine swallowed and schooled her features into neutrality. It was easier now that she was settled in to become the true person she was. She didn't have to cower or draw her shoulders inward. "You should have told me that last night. That way, I didn't wander and find myself lost."

"You didn't look lost. You looked like you knew exactly where you were going. The stomping on the rugs and running your hand along the wall didn't exactly fit the use of the word wandering." His eyes bugged out of his head, mocking her.

She stilled. Ilian was following her the entire time. The times she accidentally dragged her boot along the rug to catch the corner, the yanks on locked doors, the search for hidden passageways. It was a miracle he wasn't dragging her in front of Celestia to prove she wasn't part of their operation and was searching for something they didn't have. Then again, all these skills were volatile into proving she needed to be here.

"It's not polite to follow," she growled.

"I kept my distance." Ilian shrugged. "You didn't know I was there. Therefore, it doesn't really seem like following."

A quick mental note checked itself off. Technicalities were becoming common. "I was looking for the kitchens. All the extra examination was...second-nature. I'm always this observant."

His smile was cold and intimidating, betraying his warm and friendly tone. "Don't think I didn't hear you securing the secret passageway or yanking on the floorboards to weaken them."

Faine felt like a damp rag that had been wrung dry. Everything she had done to prepare and protect herself; Ilian already discovered while she was doing it. Ilian was onto her, and it appeared the shadowing process went both ways.

When he caught onto the fact that she would not speak in fear of having her every word stolen, he stepped to the side and extended his arm back down the hall. "After you. I'll lead you to the kitchens," he said.

Faine hoped her snarl revealed enough of her fangs. She was too used to having confident mortals cower when they witnessed those fangs and the close distance to their throat or their nose, something she could easily rip off, but Ilian didn't convey a similar expression. He merely smiled at her, flashing his white, square teeth, and followed her down the hall.

They walked side by side in silence and at one point, Faine had to back off to ensure she wasn't the one leading them towards the kitchens. At least acting like she did not understand where she was going was part of the job. Returning to Zebulon with nothing other than the evidence of her being caught was not in the plans. He'd hate her for it and use that as an excuse for an extended stay.

When they reached the first floor of the base, that swooping staircase before them, Faine flashed her best smile at a rising Ginevra, who was clutching onto the skirts of her beige dress so she didn't step on them. The fladline hardly looked at Faine but her whiskers twitched in recognition to Ilian following closely behind. He'd kept his hands stuffed into his pockets the entire time, leading Faine to believe he was clutching onto the handle of a knife and waiting for the right time to stab her in the neck with the blade.

"There you are," Ginevra guffawed. "I figured you'd be down in the kitchens already."

Was everyone in Silver Willow accustomed to waking up at the first horn? Or did they all have to? Or was it a select group that remained sleeping while others got up to work? Faine had so many questions, but this wasn't the time to ask.

"I caught Faine snooping around in the halls. Although she claimed to have lost her way, it's clear what her intentions were," Ilian said. She shot him a glare, but he appeared relatively unfazed. "She knows she's supposed to report immediately to her assigned post."

Faine bit down on her tongue but lowered her stare and hoped her eyes were glowing with enough rage. When his eyes darted to hers and quickly back to Ginevra, she knew there was the slightest bit of fear curdling inside his gut. Faine had always treated mortals like they were the same as her, but if Ilian wished for her to show exactly what made her superior, she would.

They didn't know each other's pasts, but one thing was certain. Faine would not bow down to him, she would not listen to his foolish complaints, and she would not stand for him ratting her out to the other members of the crime guild. Getting off on the wrong foot meant time was being wasted. Valuable time that, if stretched beyond four months, would be worthless and exactly what Zebulon hoped for.

Ginevra scrunched up her nose in disappointment. This was the first time Faine witnessed her completely clean, styled, and ready for the day. The dark line of kohl along her eyelid, mirrored by a dark shadow and glitter dotting the inner corner of her eye, the short ash brown hair with a gentle, yet clear wave, the cat eyes, and the fuzzy ears. She was properly attired, much too presentable for a crime base, but everyone had different priorities.

"We don't have to be serious here, Ilian," Ginevra defended. "It's her first day; let her explore a bit."

"I understand your concern," Ilian responded in a careless tone. Something told Faine he'd gone through this conversation more than once, and all ending with one outcome. Ginevra winning.

The fladline's whiskers twitched. "Then behave like you do. We are a family here, and the second we behave any differently and treating our guests with such rude behavior, we lose that calm and meaningful atmosphere."

"You must understand—Faine is new. We can't completely trust her yet."

Faine raised her brows at him. "I'm right here, you know. The least you could do is behave like I'm not standing right next to you," she snapped.

"I figured you'd understand. You examined everything in the halls and went so far as to tug on door handles and kick up rugs. Sorry if I don't completely trust you. It's not like you trust us, either," Ilian defended, pressing a hand against his chest. The Silver Willow ring rested on his middle knuckle, proudly displayed. Faine wondered if she'd receive one of her own.

Ginevra groaned. "Just trust her, Ilian. At least she's not a raging sinwolf." She purposely snarled down the stairs as if one was standing at the bottom. Faine supposed it was the one they encountered the day before, the one Ginevra could hardly bring herself to look at, let alone speak to.

"That doesn't mean she's not capable of trying to kill us all." Though he said it, he placed his hand on Faine's shoulder and gestured for her to continue walking down the stairs. She wanted to curl away from the touch and the sickening warmth that came along with it, but Faine had to maintain her confidence.

Kaspar always walked her that way, with his hand on her shoulder. It was involuntary, out of habit, and she did the same. Only her way of holding onto him was wrapping a single finger into a belt loop on his trousers. It was an easy way to not lose each other in a crowd and, when she needed to guide him over to a clothing store or jewelry selection, he had no choice but to follow along.

Ginevra clutched onto her skirts again and continued in the opposite direction. "Sometimes I wonder if you wish to make everyone hate you," she growled.

"I'm only looking out for your safety and my own. Don't patronize me for being extra cautious," Ilian called back up to her. She was already around the corner and likely ignoring him, anyway. Faine was smiling devilishly when he turned back in her direction. His tone turned harsh. "What?"

Ilian would not bother to wait around for her answer. He continued towards and kitchens and Faine kept up with his quick pace. "I think you two bicker too much for being a couple," she ventured. One way to get information was for Ilian to believe she was assuming something. In no way were they involved, she knew that for certain.

"We're not a couple." Ilian laughed as if that was the most amusing thing he'd ever heard. "No, Ginevra and I...I shadowed her when I first arrived. We have more of a brother, sister dynamic."

"A brother and sister that have slept together?" Faine arched a brow.

She was pleased with Ilian's reaction, the way he nearly swerved in the middle of the hallway to face her, all the while maintaining his fast stride that was suddenly slowing in response to her assumption. The truth, actually.

"We haven't slept together," he deadpanned. "Where would you get such a preposterous idea?"

Faine straightened her spine in confidence. "I can smell it on you when you're near her. Your scent shifts. Whenever Ginevra comes near, you're anxious. Your heart rate increases and your entire body goes still. Either you love her, or there's a history there."

Ilian scoffed. "Does it matter?"

"You mortals cling onto memories and past experiences as if that's your sole reason to breathe. I assume there's a history. But..." Faine shrugged, "...correct me if I'm wrong."

It took a moment for Ilian to reply as if he might consider her words to be truthful. Immortals and mortals were vastly different, but the faults of the other were simple to point out. Being that Faine was opposite to them, she knew mortals like the back of her hand. Had studied enough of them, at least. Had known a few that died while she was still young—watched them age and one day, never rise again.

"It seems as if you're suggesting that your kind doesn't behave the same way. You can't possibly tell me you don't appreciate every moment you're given," Ilian countered.

He was attempting to stray off subject and Faine knew exactly why. Avoiding the subject of Ginevra was his sole focus. "I do appreciate every moment I've given. But I don't cling to the past as you do."

Ilian stared at her questioningly and she stared right back. It was a waiting game to hear what he might come up with next to deflect her superstitions and spies were skilled at saying anything to get them out of the glow of the spotlight, but Ilian's tongue was tied. He parted his lips to speak, only to shake his head and clamp it shut.

They continued on in silence for a little while longer, Faine taking that time to view the training area beyond the base, until Ilian said, "We have...a brief history. A one-time history." His voice was low enough that not even the beasts in the rooms they passed by could hear them. Not even the immortals with their extended hearing abilities.

She logged that information away for later. "A desperate cry for love, was it not?" Faine grinned.

Ilian immediately shook his head. "No, that's not what it was. It was one friend helping another."

"By sleeping together?"

"By ruining a woman's purity to avoid a forced marriage."

Faine didn't know what to say. It was clear Ilian was waiting for a response; he stared at the side of her face and held his breath, but Faine's words yanked away before she could think of them. There was only so much assistance a man could provide to a woman when she had no other option but to face the cruel intentions of her family.

Destroying her purity, a false truth created by man himself, is the highest help another man could be. And Ilian had done that.

Faine cleared her throat, and in turn, emptied her swirling thoughts. "I am certain Ginevra appreciates your help," she said.

"Don't say a word to anyone." He pointed a finger at her. "She wishes to keep that private, as do I. Ginevra is not to be the topic of meaningless gossip."

Growing up with a mother that appreciated her and longed to protect her, Faine never once worried about being married off to a man she didn't care for. But she knew plenty of women, many of them immortal, that met a different fate. Part of Faine's job was to steal and spy, whether on the side of crime or that of the law. But whenever it came to women that begged and pleaded to have their husbands killed to get away from such a marriage, Faine never thought twice about going behind Zebulon's back.

She took each case as an individual. If the man was abusive and forcing the woman to stay, and through no right of her own, forcing the marriage, Faine did what was best. No one ever saw the man after that. But if he was kind and forced into the marriage as well, she gave him two options. Let her go, let her be free, or die. Their decision was always quick.

"I used to end those types of marriages," Faine revealed.

Ilian didn't waste a breath. "Through death?"

She finally looked at him, just as they were arriving at the kitchens. How Faine knew was the bustling of activity, those rising early in the morning to either prepare the food or eat what was coming first so they could start with their day.

"Through whatever it took. No one, man or woman, should be in a marriage that makes them unhappy. Marriage should be a way of freedom with one lifetime partner, not a way of suffering," she said easily and carefully.

"Ginevra would respect you for that. Surely, she'd respect you for ending the marriages of others, too."

Not only had she done that, but she'd given up part of her savings to give the woman a chance at starting her own life. Many times, they were on their own after being disowned by their families at the result of a failed marriage. With no money and nowhere to go, many women ended up dead before they could do anything for themselves.

Faine found that when giving them a few gold coins to start, they were better off. Many of them survived, and either moved to a safer place in the kingdom, or started businesses of their own, or got their first job after not being allowed to have one throughout their entire lives.

Changing the subject from one to the next, Ilian said, "This is the kitchens. The dining area for all of Silver Willow, and beyond that wall—" He pointed to a stone wall that ended in a rounded arch and led to another room "—is the kitchens, where you're stationed."

"How long am I to be here exactly?" Faine asked.

"As long as it takes for Silver Willow to trust you. Even then, everyone has to do their part around here." He patted her on the back, harder than she expected. "I have training this morning with Ginevra so I leave you in the capable hands of the kitchen. Good luck."

With one final squeeze to her shoulder, Ilian departed and left her standing there. At first, Faine felt like a fish out of water. Then she remembered what she came here to do. She straightened her spine, forced her features to relax, and put one foot in front of the other. It was something she'd been doing since the beginning of her life. Moving on before she was ready.