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“He came in person?”

“Yes.”

“He must be really excited about the mace. How did he like it?”

I try to hide a cringe, but I must not manage it, because Temra says, “He didn’t like it?”

“No, no. He liked it just fine.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He… invited us over.”

A bright smile fills my sister’s beautiful face. She makes it so difficult to be appropriately upset at times.

“That’s wonderful. Ziva! Don’t you know what this means? We must make a good impression.”

“I tried to say no,” I explain. “The man wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun! A party is just what we need.”

“It’s not a party. I was assured it would be a quaint dinner affair.”

“That’s fine. The governor’s son will still be there.”

Her mischievous smile can mean only one thing. “Attractive, is he?” I ask.

She sighs in response.

I wish the food would get here more quickly so I’d have something to do with my hands. My fingers have turned red from all the fiddling; I hide them beneath the table.

I can tell Temra wants to discuss the governor’s son in greater detail, but I just can’t be bothered. I’ve never really felt attracted to anyone before. I’m not sure if it’s the anxiety keeping me from getting close to people or something else. Whatever the case, it just hasn’t happened for me yet.

It’s not that I don’t want to connect with people. I desperately do, but even more than that, I want to feel safe. No one but Temra has ever felt safe.

I do a quick sweep of the restaurant. Only four other tables are filled. Two couples are seated at separate tables: a pair of middle-aged women holding hands, and a bickering man and woman trying to keep their voices low. The woman storms out of the establishment. The man throws down some coins before following.

How awkward.

Then there’s a lone woman sitting in a chair by the window, sipping a glass of wine.

And the fourth—

Is staring right at me.

I lower my eyes instinctively, my face heating to be caught staring. Except, he was looking at me first, wasn’t he?

Temra is talking about something, but I barely hear it as I risk glancing out of the corner of my eye back at the man.

He’s still watching me.

“Temra,” I whisper. “Someone is staring at us.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? No one is staring at you.”

“No, I mean it this time. Look, the fellow behind you.”

She turns in an obvious way to meet the eyes of the man near the door. He doesn’t have any food yet, and he’s certainly not looking at the menu held open in front of him.