Page 104 of Red Demon

“We?” The fire crackled.

“Faruhar,” I whispered as her hand traced down to my collarbone.

“You have a scar on your shoulder,” she said, tracing my skin under my shirt. “From me.”

With a shaky breath, I traced a line on her face left by Istaran. “Mine.”

Her lidded eyes fluttered. Her mouth parted. Then she froze under my gaze.

“Goodnight, Jesse,” she said, then turned her back on me to sleep.

When she reached back for my hand, I held it like a lifeline, a man lost at sea.

Chapter 42

Rumors

The cafe in Uyr Elderven bustled with overlapping conversations, bathed in the fragrance of good coffee, not the chicory kind. Asher fidgeted, stealing glances at the clock. “Where is she?” He ran his hand through his short hair.

Ruren-sa continued their attack since Nunbiren. In the shadow of the fourth recent attack attributed to SBO, Noé was in crisis, with many people flocking to the safety of the island capital. We’d entered Uyr Elderven with no issues. The officials were too overwhelmed with refugees and preemptive visitors to even bother scanning our faces into the system. Telesilla’s chout glamor still held strong on our features.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be here.” I tried to follow my own advice as my gaze kept flitting to the door. I’d helped Asher word the note we left at the hospital front desk for Mira, hoping we’d given her enough clues to accept an invitation from strangers. Ash had claimed we were old friends from Thebos, back in the days when she wanted to start a musical troupe. We’d been in the DM club together, and we underlined those letters before writing Dancing Modtechs—in this case. She could choose the time and place to meet if she wanted to say hello to her favorite waltz partners.

We’d hoped she’d choose somewhere private, but she picked this cafe instead. The place was packed—we were lucky to get the last open table.

“Any news from our new friend?” Asher asked.

I knew he meant Telesilla, but anything we said here could be overheard. “Yeah, a note. It said they’d find us at the inn tonight.”

The cafe door opened with a ring. Mira scanned the cafe. A halo of dark, textured strands framed her face, gathered at the back over a hospital uniform. Her brow furrowed in apprehension.

Asher waved her over. “Mira, over here.” His voice sounded strange, strangled.

Mira’s gaze dissected us. Asher smiled.

She didn’t smile back, swallowing. “I ... I don’t know you.”

From his grip on the table, it was all Asher could do not to get up and hug her. “We were … dance partners from Thebos. Carob and…” he faltered, the weight of the lie a leaden weight he had to whisper his way through.

She blinked at him. “Kian?” Mira supplied. The fake name in our letter.

I leaned forward across the table. “I’m sorry our appearance comes as a shock. We’ve changed our mods up to something more … natural since dance lessons.”

An intake of breath, the wave of recognition at my voice.

“I know you said I could crash on your couch anytime, but we won’t take you up on that today, even if all this death has been a bit … disruptive.” I laughed, trying to sound detached, an inner empire tourist inconvenienced by war. “Are you going to sit down?”

She sat with rigid solemnity, staring at Ash. I smiled when she turned back to me, hoping to put her at ease. Even if we were outlaws now, I never expected her to be … afraid. But there she was, her hands clenched in her lap.

“Hi,” Ash said, eyes unabashedly full of so many more words than that.

Mira’s eyes locked to his, flaring.

“We heard about Nunbiren,” I said. “Please accept our condolences. We knew you were close to some people there.”

A shiver, suppressed. “Thank you,” she murmured, faint.

“Have you heard from the survivors in Nunbiren?” I pressed. “We’ve heard some troubling rumors about the friends you mentioned in your letters, and were are relieved to hear you were safe from all this nonsense.”