The main trouble with living two lives was finding a way to hide one from someone that trusted so faithfully without feeling like shit. Faine's job, over her entire time spent living and learning and breathing all horrors of crime and law, had felt like shit too many times to count on her hands and feet.

Learning how to train her heart to behave a certain way took many years, but by the time Faine mastered it, only so many things possessed the strength to hurt her or make her think twice. Her thoughts hardly completed, anymore. No longer was she plagued with anxiety or doubt, but guilt showed up on the darkest of days. When someone died that didn't deserve it; when she lied to someone too innocent to be in her presence.

Ametrine was that innocent victim. She wasn't dead, though Faine may have gone too far by lying about a mission that needed someone's attention, and to get her on Celestia's side, handed it over to the feliram. She didn't think twice. In fact, she hugged Faine and thanked her to the point it hadn't left Faine's mind all the way from the outskirts of Isflean to Rising Eternity's base. Getting rid of Ametrine was the easy part, completely turning Faine on her head, and the hard part she now had to face was hiding her leather folder in the last few moments before Ametrine skipped off into the streets.

The set-up was as simple as she could've made it. The last time Faine was in Isflean, she heard rumors of an underground operation dealing in different variations of illegal magic. Immortals only possessed as much as needed, but with what the operation was attempting to accomplish, their abilities would become unlimited. Ametrine's job, as simple as the explanation itself, was to listen in on their operation and take notes while sitting in the restaurant where everything took place.

Such a simple lie bought her hours to go to Rising Eternity's base, have a simple meeting with Zebulon, meet with Kaspar and Nalea, and head back when Ametrine discovered nothing about the false set-up. They'd go back to the palace together, take a quick ride on two dragons, and head back to Isflean in the matter of a week to protect the high elf son and his new bride.

When she reached what was her home for ninety-nine years, Faine walked down the halls to silence. At such a late hour, most of the members were already sleeping or had left for Isflean to attend parties at private residences. Sometimes, Faine believed that was all they wished to do while living with security at the crime guild. They did as they wished, but the partiers were constantly under the scrutiny of Zebulon's clawed foot. He let nothing slip past him.

She knocked on Nalea's door and didn't receive a response. Listening closely, the room on the other side of the door was empty. The elf wasn't on the other side, humming to herself or dancing to the music strummed by a naked musician. With a shrug, Faine went to Kaspar's chambers and twisted the knob. Locked.

After the second attempt, she knocked and waited to see if he, too, was already sleeping. His warmth wasn't on the other side of the door, neither was his scent. The kitchens, then. Faine strolled at an easy, slow pace, and entered the kitchens with the intent of smiling back at her friends' faces. But the only recognizable face there was Jatloxl, sitting in the corner and dragging a whetstone over the blade of his sword.

"They're not here," he muttered without looking up.

Faine slumped onto the bench opposite his and pulled his plate of half-eaten bread towards her. Already buttered and slathered with a garlic and parsley sauce. The gadigator made no attempt at appearing content with her eating his food, but it was cold and already turning stale. How long was he sitting here, all alone? The rest of the kitchens were empty, even the cook had left long ago. The strong scent of food already disintegrated into the highest points of the air.

The white swirls around his eyes were the only thing that made their yellow shade less intimidating. If the black, scaly skin he possessed covered his entire body instead of broken up by the only lightness he'd ever possess, Jatloxl would face the turned stares of many feared passersby. But he did, anyway.

"Is there a reason you're sitting here, utterly alone, or are you waiting until tomorrow morning to be the first to snag breakfast?" Faine asked. She stuffed a corner of the bread in her mouth.

Jatloxl watched her chew with a bored expression. "If you must know, I have night duty to guard the base. Not that you'd care, you're too busy canoodling with Silver Willow."

Faine laughed open-mouthed, and he grimaced at the chewed-up bread against her tongue. "Canoodling." She shook her head and laughed once more. "If that's what you consider spying on them and lying through my teeth, then yes, I am canoodling with Silver Willow."

"Come on, no one else is here. You don't have to lie. It's better there, isn't it? The guild is complete, there's no threat hanging in the air, everyone relies on you to be the best—and you are." Jatloxl gasped dramatically, widening his eyes, but in the flash of a second, he deadpanned his stare and resumed sharpening his sword.

The crumpled rag off to the side of his reach proved he had just shined the handle and the crossguard but wasn't planning to stop there. The blade itself, crafted by a blacksmith similar to the one Faine had killed with her own hidden weapon, needed beautifying too. If there was one thing Faine could respect about Jatloxl, it was his care towards all weapons. Sometimes, not even his. On more than one occasion, he offered to clean the weapons of anyone nearby. Including hers. Many of their late-night arguments were born over-sharpening and polishing blades or armor.

"Actually, in case you don't remember, Silver Willow still faces trials of its own. Established or not, every crime guild goes through adjustment periods."

"Rising Eternity has been in an adjustment period since it was born," Jatloxl countered. "Silver Willow is way ahead of itself. Before long, it'll be the best—and the only—crime guild in all of Pinedon. Talk about monopolizing."

He flared his flat nostrils and the fins on either side of his face twitched with ire. Through no fault of their own, every feature on a gadigators face led them to reveal their true feelings. Everything, separately and conjoined, was alive in its own way—fins included. Even the few tentacles hanging from his chin, a sickly grey, slithered against the rough, reptile skin of his chest.

"Silver Willow will not monopolize." At least, Faine hadn't heard a word from anyone about it. That was plausible, to believe they were strong enough to do such a thing, and the more Faine considered it, the easier it was for her to believe that it was indeed a threat for all the other, smaller crime guilds in the land. Some by names Faine had never heard of.

Jatloxl clicked his tongue. "So why are you here? Why aren't you spending time with your new friends?"

"Jealous much?" Faine arched a brow.

"Unlikely."

She sidestepped his flat stare and said, "I'm here to deliver a report to Zebulon, as well asvisit with my friends. But none of them are here, and I don't feel like facing Zebulon without seeing them first; having one conversation with him is simply exhausting." She rubbed at her forehead, fatigued from just thinking about it.

The blade whined between them and Faine took the liberty of shining the tip with the balled-up rag. "You should say that to his face, he'd quite appreciate hearing your hate towards him."

Faine scoffed. "True, but I'd rather allow myself to stew in silence; it pisses him off more."

Only on rare occasions did the gadigator ever laugh. And if he did, it was a snort through his flat nose instead of anything farther. Keeping his reputation intact and allowing his fellow members of Rising Eternity to know he hated them was more important than feeling lighthearted. The laugh that left his nose at that moment was similar to all the occurrences Faine had ever heard it, and she was happy to know he wasn't completely cold inside.

"Well, if you're wondering, your true friends aren't here. They're in the city, investigating a restaurant."

Faine nodded. "What are they investigating?"

"You should've been here, maybe you'd know."

It was her turn to give him a deadpanned stare. She chewed on the bread without another expression and waited for him to go on without the unnecessary sarcasm.

Jatloxl sighed. Then, he said, "They're investigating a restaurant and whether the cooks are putting poisons in the food. Strong enough to kill immortals. The next-door shop owner assigned them the mission after multiple customers dropped dead after eating at the restaurant. He's tired of cleaning up their froth-mouthed, limp bodies from the floor of his store."

"What's the name of the restaurant?" Faine supposed she might as well stop by there once she finished her meeting with Zebulon. It'd be nice to surprise Kaspar and Nalea and poke fun at their newfound partnership.

He furrowed his brows in an attempt to remember. "The Amber...Vista? Something like that; I can't remember. Amber..."

"Pavilion," Faine breathed.

She stared at the table, at the bread sitting on the plate before her. It wasn't appetizing anymore. That was the restaurant she had sent Ametrine to. The Amber Pavilion. Located in the Palace District and known for catering to those directly outside the richest part of the city. Faine shoved the plate back across the table and stood quickly from the bench.

"What's wrong?" Jatloxl asked.

"Nothing." Faine brushed herself off. "If I have time, I'll be back. I just remembered I have something to do."

As she fled the kitchens, preparing herself to run, she heard him mutter under his breath. "Nice lie," was all he said. In that split moment, she'd forgotten to come up with something he could share with the remainder of the base. Gossip was a forefront on the list of Jatloxl's favorite pastimes and throwing others under the wagon went along with that.

If he hinted that he knew what was happening...no, it wasn't possible. Faine sprinted for the front doors of the base and didn't look back as the wind tore at her hair. Ametrine was at the same restaurant as Kaspar and Nalea and if either of them discovered that the other was suspicious—Faine hoped she wouldn't arrive to a bloodbath from either side.

For years, she trained to run from the base to the city. Nearly every time, she vomited on a tree, but this was different. By the time she reached the outskirts of Isflean, her breathing was still intact and the garlic bread settled in her stomach. Faine didn't taste it in her cheeks—not yet.

She broke for the Palace District and spotted the glowing amber flame of the restaurant. It was the only thing to set them apart from the rest and did homage to their name. The Amber Pavilion glowed against the night sky and Faine skidded to a halt, allowing her nose to do the job for her. Somewhere, she smelled the three of them clustered together as one. And it wasn't on the inside of the restaurant; laughter poured from within and the shadows of waitresses moved left and right against the amber glow.

Muddled in with the scent of hot, delicious food was the scent she knew for over one-hundred years. Faine followed it into the dark alleyway next to the building and ran her hand along the white mortar. She followed the sound of one angered voice, then another, and ended her suspicions with a third. They had already found each other.

She pressed herself up against the wall and peered around the corner. Pressed against the wall of the building was Ametrine and holding a dagger to her throat, his shoulders hunched, was Kaspar. Standing off to the side and demanding information was Nalea, shifting from one hip to the next.

Shit, Faine thought. Of course, it had to be the one restaurant in the city that Rising Eternity was focusing on. The exact one. Faine rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to slap her forehead. Stupidity at its finest.

She took a deep breath, blew out her cheeks, and pushed herself off the wall.