We marked the alternate entrance with a stick. The people tasked with validating our success would likely need it, and the hidden entrance was safer if anyone came looking.

  The walk back to town was uneventful. Norman filled it with questions about my life before this world, and I answered with the same careful half-truths I had been leaning on since I woke in Drisnil’s skin. Her memories were vivid enough to borrow. Close enough to the campaign I’d once run that the story came easily. The problem was that the places and names meant nothing here, so I kept pushing them further away each time they threatened to become too real.

  Far away. Across seas no one here had sailed. Somewhere that could not be checked.

  I told him about Drisnil’s years as an assassin, how she built power and favours like a second spine. I told him about the long, patient work of gathering connections for the day she would finally try to depose her god. I skimmed past the worst details, but Norman still wrote as if every sentence was a gift.

  I described the adventuring party, their charm, their petty jealousies, the way they could be steered if you tugged at the right weakness. I told him how they were tricked into attacking a good-aligned outpost, and how Drisnil had stood back and watched it happen with a smile she did not need to fake.

  I mentioned the artefacts, the hunt for them, the wizard they meant to free, and the ritual that dragged him up from hell. I spoke of the betrayal afterwards, the sudden shift from triumph to horror, and the rage that left me no choice but to fight beside the very people I’d used.

  By the time I finished, the sky over Ravencrest had gone the bruised colour of early evening.

  Illara had stayed quiet through the entire story. She watched the road more than she watched me, but I felt her attention all the same. When I said certain things, her face tightened in small, involuntary ways, like she was bracing for a blow that never came.

  Norman, on the other hand, looked almost giddy. He had scribbled so many notes that his pages were starting to tear at the corners.

  “With this information,” he said, breathless, “I can turn what we know about the Nhalyri on its head. I cannot wait to collate it all.”

  Nhalyri. The word landed differently in my chest than it should have. People here kept mistaking Drisnil for an elf when it suited them, but she was not one. There were differences I still did not have the language for, and I did not particularly want to lecture anyone on them. Not when most of Ravencrest would be happier if I stayed in the neat box their assumptions provided.

  We went straight to the guardhouse to deliver the ears and report our success.

  Norman knocked. A young man opened the door, lantern-light spilling out behind him.

  “Evening,” Norman said brightly. “We’ve cleared a kobold warren nearby. We’re here to collect our reward.”

  The soldier looked us over. His eyes paused on me for a moment too long, then lingered as if he’d forgotten why he was standing in a doorway. I felt it like a hand on my skin, unwanted and oddly intimate.

  Being looked at like that was new. In my old life I had been invisible more often than not. Here, in Drisnil’s body, attention found me whether I wanted it or not.

  “Brilliant,” he said, blinking himself back into duty. “Please come in. I’m Corporal Jones, but you can call me Hugh.”

  He smiled as he said it, and the smile was aimed at me.

  “Nice to meet you, Hugh,” Norman said. “I’m Norman. This is Drisnil, and Illara.”

  We followed him inside and took seats at a rough wooden table. Hugh crossed to a shelf, took down a few sheets of paper, then unlocked a small strongbox.

  “Can you describe the layout of the warren,” he asked, “and any hidden traps?”

  He set a blank sheet and quill in front of us.

  I took the quill. My hand moved without hesitation as I drew, as if the map already existed under the paper and I was merely tracing it. Drisnil’s muscle memory. Her quiet confidence. Even the way she held the quill felt practised, controlled.

  Hugh sat close enough that I could feel the heat of him. He watched my hand more than the ink.

  I shifted a little to give myself space.

  He shifted too, neatly closing the gap again as if it was accidental.

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  Illara’s gaze flicked to him, then away. Her jaw tightened. It was subtle, but I caught it.

  When the map was finished, I explained how to find the warren and what could not be captured in lines and symbols. Hugh studied it with exaggerated seriousness, then nodded as if impressed.

  He opened the strongbox and counted out ten gold coins, setting them into my palm one by one.

  “Please sign here.”

  He slid a ledger toward me, the mission already recorded. His finger rested on the reward column.

  I signed. Hugh added his name beneath mine.

  The official part should have ended there. Hugh did not let it.

  He leaned back with a smile that tried to look casual. “So, what are you up to this evening, Drisnil?”

  “I’m likely going to relax at a tavern with Illara,” I said. “Get some food.”

  Illara shot me a look that was not quite fear, but it lived close to it. Like she’d seen this sort of moment go wrong before, and her body remembered before her mind could argue.

  Hugh’s smile widened. “Well, how about instead I shout you dinner. Just you and me. We could get to know each other better.”

  A laugh escaped me, short and disbelieving. It was not the flirting that surprised me so much as the sheer confidence of it, the assumption that I would be grateful.

  Norman was grinning like he had front-row seats at a play.

  Illara went very still.

  “I’m not interested,” I said, keeping my tone as flat as possible. “And I’m not interested in men.”

  It was true, as far as I was concerned, and true in a different way for Drisnil. She was not interested in anyone, not like that. But I did not owe Hugh a lecture on the difference.

  He gave a small laugh, as if I was pretending. “Have you ever tried being with a man?”

  The question snapped something sharp inside me. I could feel Drisnil’s irritation stir, cold and predatory, and I pushed it down before it reached my face.

  “Have you?” I asked.

  Hugh blinked, caught off-guard. For a heartbeat his expression darkened. A flicker of anger, quick as a match struck then smothered.

  “I would never,” he said stiffly. “I’m not interested in them.”

  “Right,” I said, standing too quickly. The chair scraped the floor. “I think it’s time we left. Thank you for your time.”

  Norman rose as well, still wearing that maddening grin, as if none of this mattered. Illara followed a fraction behind me, quiet as a shadow.

  We left the guardhouse with more haste than dignity.

  Behind us, Hugh’s face had gone red, either with embarrassment or something uglier. I did not wait to find out which.

  I handed Norman his share.

  “Five gold, as agreed.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” He tucked the coins away with practised ease. “You can find me at the old tower in town, near the shop you found me at. I’ll be busy for a while, writing up everything you told me, but I’d be happy to help again in the future.”

  We shook hands.

  “Nice working with you too, Illara,” he added, turning to her. “I hope we meet again.”

  He shook her hand as well.

  Norman turned and headed down the street without looking back. Illara watched him go. Her gaze lingered longer than it needed to, as if she were already measuring the absence he left behind.

  I pressed two gold coins into her palm.

  “Don’t worry about the room,” I said. “I’ll cover it. We can settle it that way.”

  She shifted her weight, not meeting my eyes at first. When she spoke, her voice was steady, but it felt rehearsed.

  “For tonight, I’d like separate rooms. I need time to think.”

  The words landed harder than they should have. Up until now she had stayed close, sometimes so close I forgot where she ended and I began. This felt like a door quietly closing.

  “Alright,” I said. It came out rougher than I meant. “If that’s what you want.”

  My face betrayed me before I could stop it. I looked away quickly, blinking hard until the sting in my eyes dulled.

  Illara frowned, as if she had not expected that reaction.

  “Just for one night,” she said again. “For now.”

  She sounded like she was convincing herself as much as me.

  We reached the inn not long after. Harry stood behind the counter, exactly where we had left him.

  “I’ve got payment for another week,” I said, setting the coins down. “And I’ll need to rent another room for tonight.”

  “Seven silver and five copper,” he replied, already counting it out. His tone carried no curiosity. Whatever passed between travellers was none of his concern.

  I handed over a gold coin. He returned the change, then passed a key to Illara.

  “Fourth door on the right,” he said. “Dinner’s still on, if you’re hungry.”

  She nodded, murmured her thanks, and took the key.

  Despite having eaten little all day, I felt no hunger at all. Only a bone-deep tiredness that had nothing to do with walking.

  I went to my room without another word. Illara disappeared down the corridor the other way.

  Once inside, I shed my clothes and collapsed onto the bed. The quiet pressed in from all sides. When the tears came, there was no one left to see them.

  I cried until sleep took me.

  I woke to knocking at the door. It felt like I had only just gone to sleep, yet light was already leaking in around the shutters. The bed was cold beneath me, the room colder still. I pulled on my cloak before the chill could settle properly.

  When I opened the door, Illara stood there. Her eyes were bloodshot, dark rings bruising the skin beneath them. She looked like she had not slept at all.

  “We need to talk.”

  Four words. Enough to knot my stomach before she said anything else.