Faine had never seen so many weapons laid out in one room. Anything from swords to daggers to crossbows and mace. Armories carried less, blacksmiths never received the privilege to live long enough and craft everything that Faine studied.

None of the weapons were there to draw attention or create unnecessary bulk. The most noticeable weapon, a battle axe, wasn't anything more than a sharp blade on the end of a wooden pole. Anyone unsuspecting would take that as a guard's weapon, exactly who that was assigned to.

Faine looked down at the piece of paper in her hands, listing who was going where and the names accompanying the positions. The gadigators and sinwolves were to dress as guards—pick from the selection of armor on the table in the kitchens, then choose which axe fancied their grip. It was all the same, the only one judging weight against size was Eliphas.

Before the entire process began, Faine had been the one to lead everyone in the right direction. Her first-held meeting as a member of Silver Willow and a sign that meant Celestia was trusting her to become a loyal and prized associate. No one balked when she announced their name and their positions to play at the high elf son's wedding, in fact, they were quick to grab what they needed and strap on their armor for testing.

Towards the middle of the list was her name, and farther down was Ilian and Ginevra. All three were assigned to the same job: crossbows in the rafters. Observe from a higher angle and shoot down anyone that attempted to step in the way of the celebration. But don't shoot if the guards on the ground floor can't handle it. Faine had been in the same position too many times to know exactly what needed to happen when she was lying on her stomach on a dusty shelf, hidden from everyone else in the room.

A sharp giggle disrupted the muttering voices in the kitchens, coming from Ginevra and Ilian in the corner. Her fladline lover accompanied them, though he resembled a tote standing next to her. Useless and undervalued, though he laughed out loud at Ilian's joke, nearly as noticeable as Ginevra's annoying hoot.

The only note Celestia gave Faine before waving her away to handle the positions was that everyone needed a partner. No groups of three and no single fighters. Someone needed to watch their backs at all times, and the same went for the other way around. Celestia would attend the celebration herself, disguised as an unnoticeable and undetectable guard or mortal servant, so she couldn't keep a sharp eye on everyone at all times.

She had her own duties to tend to.

As Faine watched Ilian pick up a crossbow from the table in front of him, she wondered who he'd choose. Her or Ginevra. First choices always landed on those a person knew longer, trusted more, and cared for the most. Faine was at a loss. No matter what she did or how close they came, she didn't have the potential to beat the way he cared for Ginevra. Not to say that was a bad thing, she was always Kaspar's first choice—Nalea's, too. It bugged her, though, that Ilian wouldn't pick her first.

"The longer you stare at that paper, the more confused you'll become."

Faine looked to an approaching Ametrine and forced a smile. "The trick is to memorize everyone's positions. I have to keep an eye on what everyone else is doing," she said, waving the paper in the air. "Celestia won't always have the advantage to stare down our backs."

"Of course, not." Ametrine took the paper and read it over. "Have you chosen a partner yet?"

Looking at Ilian one last time, Faine watched him aim the crossbow at the wall. At his side, Ginevra was aiming her own with a stellar hold. "Actually, I was about to ask you if you'd like to be my partner. I believe everyone else is already paired away."

"Celestia wanted two of the same class to pair up. Since I'm a scout, you must find someone else." As someone was calling her name, Ametrine handed the paper over to Faine and backed away. "Try Ilian. You two are always together as it is."

Faine's mouth quirked to the side. The stupid thing to do would be to go up to him at that moment and ask if he still needed a partner—right in front of Ginevra. The smart thing was always waiting her turn, seeing if someone else wished to pair up with her instead of parading around, asking for someone that didn't want to be with her, to begin with.

Doing the stupid thing got her through many years of life.

There was no way around it. Faine folded up the paper, stuffed it in her pocket, and pinned her shoulders back. She hadn't carried herself any lower, allowed no one to think she was beneath them and wasn't about to lose all sense over whether she received the chance to pair with a mortal. Why did she care so much, anyway?

The thought gnawed at her all the way to the other end of the room. The table in front of her housed an array of crossbows for the others assigned to the same role as her, and Faine took hardly more than a second to pick which weapon she desired. The crossbow was heavier than a traditional bow, but the aim and grip gave her ample time to figure out the different quirks.

Ilian, standing a few feet away, made another joke—something about shaking arms and terrible aim—and Ginevra smacked his sleeve, shaking her head. It wasn't jealousy causing heat to climb up Faine's throat; it was the reminder that the fladline believed Ilian deserved less than what he was receiving. Over the years, he had grown used to being treated a certain way, folded himself into that lifestyle, and didn't know any different until Faine told him otherwise.

She didn't want him to choose Ginevra as his partner. Faine had already prevented a geas from altering his state of mind, had strengthened him to realize that certain apologies weren't necessary, helped him when he was wrongly forced to drink an immortal's wine...she didn't want to stop there.

Clearing her throat, she drew the attention of not only Ilian but Ginevra and her fladline friend, as well. They turned, some slower than others, and Faine waved around her crossbow. "I am yet to find a partner. Would any of you care to join me? Jokes included—silence...not."

"Since you have no other friends here, it's my obligation to step up," Ilian mocked, placing his hand delicately against his chest. Like a chain breaking, he stepped away from Ginevra.

All in a day's work. Ginevra's brown ears twitched with rage and she settled it entirely on Ilian now standing at the side of another immortal. A woman, someone she considered a competitor. But there wasn't a battle to name, only the foolish, pent up fantasy that filled her brain. A dominant feature that no immortal could shake. Especially not Faine.

Years of keeping other women away from Kaspar, despite their deal, was nearly impossible to control, but she mastered it after so many occurrences of biting down on her jaw gave her a headache. Ilian was different, they had no romantic attachment to each other, but mortals didn't carry that protective sense within their bones. For Faine, it was second nature.

Ilian whirled back to his best friend. "You'll be fine, right? You have Allennon to partner with." At the sound of his name, the blond fladline perked up and peered around Ginevra's giant head to ensure he heard someone else speak of his existence. He didn't receive recognition for much around Silver Willow besides following around the women with drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"We were already partnered, anyway." Sadness resided in her eyes when she looked at the man supposed to stand at her side for years to come. Every last drop of it was directed at Faine somehow taking that away without trying. But she had. She had tried; hated the thought of him being with someone that didn't appreciate such an existence enough.

Faine looked down at the floor to avoid the overwhelming guilt curdling her guts. "I can partner with Allennon if you wish," she blurted. Ilian glanced over his shoulder at her and raised his brows. "If—if you two wish to pair together, Allennon and I can—"

"That's not necessary," Ginevra interrupted, trying and failing to give her voice the sound of bored contentment. She flattened a cold stare at Faine, and it struck the feliram that once seriously pissed off, no one could escape that hurtling fury.

One of the smartest decisions of the day, of the month, was to keep her lips sealed tight. The last thing she needed was Ginevra's claws embedding in her eyes.

Silence weighed down on their shoulders, but Ilian was the first—the bravest—to clear his throat. "Now that we avoided that awkward conversation..." He fiddled with the crossbow he held tightly and tried to avoid looking at either of them. The rage immortals expressed was something he'd never understand. "I have duties to tend to before the evening. Faine, we'll plan tonight?"

Faine nodded and stepped aside for him to pass. Great. Now she was as vulnerable as a wounded deer and sinwolves were surrounding her. The only escape was the giant boulder against her back, or the crowd of other thieves, spies, and killers grabbing their weapons and swinging them around carelessly to test the weight. If she fled now, she risked losing her head to Ginevra's grand amusement.

She chose to watch Ilian walk away as long as she could and kept her eyes locked onto his tensed shoulders until he rounded the corner and left her stranded with the beast of a fladline still staring daggers into her soul. Even if she wasn't revealing herself nude as she normally did, the obvious vulnerability gave off that state of mind.

"So, what's your play?" Ginevra demanded. She crossed her golden arms over her chest and walked towards Faine, one foot in front of the other in a similar way to a predator stalking prey. Any other beast would lose their balance with such a rhythm but fladlines were susceptible to making everything about their bodies appear as smooth as silk. "Why are you drawn to Ilian?"

"Excuse me?" Faine asked.

"You heard my question." Behind her, Allennon dropped his head to block off the visual of what was about to happen. The rest of the room was unaware; a conversation between the two women meant nothing. "I won't allow you to hurt him."

Faine didn't bother to hide the note of derision in her laugh. "Hurt him? All I've done since I got here is help him in ways you refuse."

"No, you made matters worse with everything you've done. Don't make yourself high and mighty because you helped prevent a geas." Ginevra looked her up and down, somehow, from their close distance. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks, then reached her brow when she looked back to the opposing eye line. "Ilian doesn't need someone to put false ideas in his head; he needs protection and sometimes, the only way to offer that is through control."

"How would you feel if it was the other way around?" Faine questioned. "If he had similar feelings about you, you'd hate every second of it."

"That doesn't matter." Her irritation hissed through clenched teeth. "I cannot protect him anymore because of you. And now, you're trying to steer him away from everything he knows. Either you stop putting those false ideas into his head—"

Faine scoffed; that was enough of an interruption. Ginevra didn't finish, nor did she have to. Death threats awaited around every corner; to hear those words leave the lips of her enemies was nothing new.

"You have feelings for him...don't you?" Ginevra narrowed her golden-brown eyes. Similar to Faine's in every way. Their shape, color, and intimidation. "That's what it is. That's why you're so drawn to him."

She allowed herself one quick blink to wipe the astonishment from her face. "If that's what you wish to believe, be my guest. But I know why I'm protecting Ilian the way I am. People like you, in the end, will bring him down. He is a mortal, susceptible to death, and I'm narrowing the chances of it. You are leading him straight for the flames," she uttered.

The kiss they shared at the banquet proved more than one thing. Not all mortals were afraid, not all of them were inexperienced, not all of them were born and bred to live their lives in such a short matter that it was impossible to love. Faine commonly came close with her partners on missions and had kissed many just to get a point across or distract someone else from their presence. Nothing ever felt as serious as it did when she kissed Ilian, but the truth hit her like a slap to the face.

Everyone else Faine involved herself with over the years was an immortal. She searched for the feeling of friendship in all of them, a true care, but could never find it. The longer and harder she looked, the less it mattered and more complicated it became. To the point of that day, she forgot to consider what was so important in the past and wasn't reminded of it until she met Ilian.

Similarities were her downfall, and the culpability came when she searched for Carlton in everything and everyone. Drawing herself to Ilian wasn't a mistake, enjoying kissing him wasn't, either. She wanted to protect him, not because he was a weak mortal that needed it, but because she had already lost one. Losing another...it had the potential to ruin a future existence.

They were too similar to think otherwise.

"You're pathetic," Ginevra hissed and brought her back to reality.

That night she kissed him wasn't a mistake or technique she used to garner themselves away from a wandering eye. If she was ready to be truthful with herself, she kissed Ilian at the hands of want pushing her towards it. Was she taking advantage? Possibly. Only if Ilian hadn't wanted to kiss her, too.

"I have protected Ilian for years now and plan to do it for much longer." Ginevra took another step closer to the point their noses were nearly touching. "You will not get in the way of that."

These were demands simply veiled by pleas. Ginevra gave her a glare meant to singe hairs and backed away, taking her cherry and sugar scent with her. Like a storm cloud, it followed her body.

"I trust him," Faine called after her. The fladline turned on her heel. "That's why I'm drawn to him. Ilian is easy to trust. And I don't care what you plan to do to separate us. I'll always be one step ahead."

As Ginevra had done too many times to count, Faine tossed her hair over her shoulder and winked at her wide, shocked eyes. She held a cold and intimidating smile that betrayed her warm and friendly tone. The world was in her hands. Ilian was there, too.

She strutted out of the room without a look back but felt the heat of Ginevra's eyes on her the entire way.