Erisa arrived at Van Haven police station around nine in the morning. She walked in to find the officers hanging themselves dry in front of their standing fan, buttons undone, uncaring who had just walked in. She did not expect them to stand at attention on her arrival — she was not in uniform and might never put on Gaverian greens again. It would be impossible for them to recognise her.

  “Erisa Zeal,” said one officer, happier than the others. “It is you.”

  He rose from his seat, hastily closed his buttons and tucked in his shirt. The others exchanged glances and reluctantly dressed themselves as well. “We went to training camp together,” he said. “Don’t you remember me?”

  Rounded face. Smooth chin. Big yellow eyes. Of course she remembered him. “I don’t,” she said regardless. “I’m here to gather information.”

  “Right,” he said. “Since you’re here, we’d like to gather information from you as well.”

  “Is the old man dead?” another asked, eager as Erisa’s old friend had been. “Mariel killed him, didn’t she?”

  “Former Chancellor Demettle is retired,” said Erisa. “Renna Sorel did not murder him, and it would be wise not to spread such rumours.”

  “We’re just saying what we heard,” another chimed in. They held their thoughts and communicated with cues, perhaps considering whether to let her in on another moronic conspiracy theory.

  “That wasn’t Demettle we saw on television,” her old friend insisted. “The real one’s been dead since Schemel’s attack on the Primus. She had that earthen boy kill him.”

  “Slit the poor old man’s throat in his sleep.”

  “Mariel’s just bringing this one in to prove he was still alive and give the Sorel name some much-needed legitimacy again.”

  An argument with fools was a lost battle. She would not fall for this.

  “I’m looking for a young girl,” Erisa said. “Possibly Solvarian, possibly in her early twenties. We have eyewitness reports of her walking around the streets.”

  “We have a young girl in custody,” said her old friend. “She’s everything you described—except she’s not a foreigner, if that matters.”

  “Do you have any idea where the foreigner might be?” Erisa asked. One of the officers walked over to the reception counter, picking up a pen and paper. “On second thought,” she added, “bring me the girl in custody.” It was worth a shot.

  “Who the hell is that?” one of the officers suddenly yelled, turning up the volume on the television she hadn’t noticed before.

  The news was on—covering Mariel’s inauguration. A man’s picture filled the screen, the same one the officer had yelled about. That was Lord Gracious, Henrikia’s youngest ever to earn the title. An unassuming man in large, round spectacles, he was a professor at New Crest University and a vocal advocate for the reintegration of earthens into Henrikian society. It was no wonder Mariel had chosen him as her vice chancellor.

  “When the hell did we start having vice chancellors?” one officer muttered.

  “Our current economic situation does not allow for a large government,” Mariel said from the screen. She was making her first address to the nation from the House of Sentry. To her left stood Lord Gracious, and to her right, a man Erisa recognised—he had recently overseen the execution of Alangre captains.

  “I have, by the full mandate of the Council of One Hundred,” Mariel continued, “dissolved the Primus and, in its place, reinstated the Emergency Triad—a power structure that carries the responsibilities of the Primus but works with greater flexibility, speed, and, most importantly, efficiency.”

  Ren Talon had received a promotion from Green Chief to Primus Gaverian—a position that merged the duties of High Commander, Green Chief, and Captain of the Combined Forces of the Gold Army, along with command over the Humility Force. It was a promotion in name only, since he had already assumed those powers weeks before. No wonder the Humility Force had defended Mariel in Demettle’s face—they hadn’t been following Mariel’s orders, but Talon’s.

  Lord Gracious now held power over nearly everything else, answering only to Mariel. Applause erupted within the House of Sentry, but out on the streets, no one was clapping.

  “Say, Ms Zeal, what is Mariel’s plan, really?” her friend asked. “Is she really selling us to the Yunnish? People say that, but I don’t want to think it’s true. It can’t be that, right?”

  She did not indulge him. They had brought in the girl — tall, lean, with dark eyes. They were not wrong when they said she did not look Solvarian. She wore a nightie, her lips chapped and eyes heavy.

  “Who is she?”

  “Neighbours caught her trying to break into Master Arson’s apartment.”

  “Jay Arson?”

  “It hardly ever happens. For a Gaverian, Jay Arson’s pretty lucky not to have people raiding his house more often.”

  “Let me talk to her in private.”

  The station had one interrogation room. They opened the doors and slid the glass windows to let in some air. Aside from the musty smell, it was bearable. The girl sat at the opposite end of the desk, facing Erisa. She did not smile, not even after taking a sip of water.

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  “You don’t look like a criminal,” said Erisa. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I have nowhere else to go,” she said, plainly.

  “What relationship do you have with Jay Arson?”

  “I was his wife,” she said, her pitch rising. “But he kicked us out when he came back from the south.”

  It was easy to get lost in the weeds this way. Erisa had to make an effort to stay on track.

  “Does it have anything to do with a Solvarian?”

  “You think she’s the one behind this?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I guess that’s what I was trying to find out,” the girl said. “He wouldn’t kick us out if he wasn’t planning to bring her in. I can’t believe he’d replace us like that.”

  “Do you know who the girl is?”

  “No. He never let us meet her. We don’t know who she really is.”

  “And is there a good chance she’ll be in Jay’s apartment right now?”

  The girl wasn’t sure, but she was willing to say so. Erisa stood to leave. She lingered at the door, taking one last look at the girl.

  “You should go home. Your parents must be worried.”

  It caught the girl off guard, but she hid it behind a frown. “I think you should mind your own business.”

  Erisa arrived at Jay’s apartment and knocked once. She waited for a minute before knocking again. Without an answer, she scraped her boot on the ground, caught between decisions. Clearly, someone was inside. A swayer’s fragrance spread throughout the hallway. Without permission, she could not defend herself if it came down to it. But could she really tell Mariel she had not considered the implications of her constraints before accepting this mission? That would make her look foolish.

  With a sigh, she crafted a shaft, approaching to tamper with the lock when the door clicked open from the other side. A girl stood behind it, as sombre as the last one Erisa had spoken to at the police station. What was with Jay and making women sad?

  “Can I help you?” the girl asked in perfect Kirisi.

  “Are you a resident of this apartment?”

  “Yes,” the girl said, in all seriousness. “Do you want to come in?”

  Erisa did walk in. She was served some tea and sat at the dinner table with Verimae, the girl Mariel was looking for.

  “I am waiting for Jay to come home,” Verimae said. “He left rather abruptly after I moved in.”

  “How do you know Jay?” Erisa asked.

  “Well, he told me his name when I asked for it. He talked to me when I was lonely. I learnt about his fears of never living up to his father’s expectations. And he’ll never admit it but he loves poetry. One of his favourite pastimes is writing epics about himself. Then he makes me read them. I have to pretend to enjoy them, but he’s just so bad at it, you see.”

  “Are you and Jay together?”

  “I like to think so, but sometimes I think it’s all in my head, you understand?”

  Erisa did not.

  “I do,” Verimae said.

  “You don’t have to lie,” said Verimae, smiling. “You’ve never fallen in love.”

  “How about we talk about something else.”

  “I think this place needs a healthy dose of bright colours. I looked at all the buildings in the neighbourhood and they’re… grey and boring. No gardens anywhere.” Verimae sighed. “If I could have my way, I’d plant a garden on every balcony.”

  “Do that and we just might execute you,” snorted Erisa. “You’re a foreigner. Solvarian?”

  “How can you ever find love this way?” said Verimae. “You don’t open yourself up to anyone. ‘I’ll shoot you; I’ll arrest you.’ Guests aren’t supposed to be treated that way. And no, I’m an Ardenite.”

  “You really must be new here. That’s how we treat everyone. We shot Captains of the Alangre dead last week. Their only crime was following orders. Here I am, working for the government after committing a crime. There is no justice in this country. But Mariel can change that. I’m here to enforce her vision, to know whether you’re a threat to the common people or not.”

  “I offered you tea,” said Verimae.

  “I haven’t drunk any.”

  Verimae stood up. She had the poise of a queen. “I was offered a promise by my benefactors that this would be a land where I can be free from the threat of harm. The first thing your people did was put me in a box.”

  “It kept you out of harm, didn’t it?”

  “That wasn’t very funny. Your poor treatment of foreigners is not funny.”

  “I may have overstayed my welcome. Why don’t I ask you one last question and then I’ll be gone.” Consent given, she asked, “Are you a swayer?”

  “I’m not the one who put a spell on Jacqolin.”

  “How did you—”

  “No, I don’t read minds, although yours is written on your face.”

  Erisa’s fingers flexed. She willed herself not to craft a gun, backing away to the door. “You can’t shoot your way out of every problem,“ said the foreigner.

  “A bullet through your head would beg to differ.”

  “Like the one you nearly put in Ashamel’s head. What you did to Schemel’s daughter says a lot more about you than it does about Schemel. Are you not the very kind of person Mariel should get rid of?”

  Erisa could not respond.

  “Under Mariel’s grace you escaped a prison sentence. At the very least, you should have apologised to Ashamel for your thoughtless actions. Have you considered how the poor girl feels right now?”

  This was the first indication of a shifting emotion. Despite her elaborate personality, Verimae’s heartbeat had been icily regular throughout their conversation. This was a new change. A slight shift in her temperament at the mention of Ashamel.

  “What is your relationship with Schemel?” asked Erisa.

  “I don’t care for that woman,” said Verimae. “However, I would be interested in meeting with her sister Mariel. Can you bring her here please?”

  Why not. Erisa opened the front door and stopped short when her eyes met the dark blue sky. How was it so late? She could’ve sworn the sun was up. It was past eight when she arrived at the police station. But she couldn’t have spent more than fifteen minutes in the apartment. No, hell, even an hour. Two hours, six hours spent should not bring them close to evening. Her phone clock read ten past nine.

  “Is everything okay, Erisa?”

  “Yes,” said Erisa. She trembled. Her feet, her arms, her mind quaked along. “What did you do to me?”

  “You didn’t drink the tea.”

  “Swayer,” Erisa cussed, furious. “You won’t get me.”

  She did not see Erisa charge at her. The girl stood there, and Erisa snatched at her dress. Or she thought she did. Erisa had just slipped through Verimae like the girl was some kind of ghost. She crashed into the dinner table. She stayed on the floor, panting as spilled tea dripped on her face.

  They slid around her eyes, mixed in with her tears and rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them from coming. Odd. Quiet embarrassing, actually. Verimae walked closer, clutching a napkin. She placed a hand on Erisa’s head and stroked. “I’m not a swayer that I would force my will upon you, Ms Zeal. My will is to help others realise their dreams. So, what do you want?”

  Erisa sealed her mouth shut, straining to move her eyes away from the fae’s.

  “Would you love the one you hurt the most?” said Verimae. “Would you atone for your sins?”

  “Get out of my head.”

  “You’re free to leave, Ms Zeal. I’m not keeping you prisoner.”

  Regaining her strength, Erisa staggered to her feet and dragged herself out. Before she could get as far away as she could, she heard the swayer again. “Please bring Mariel along when you return.”

  “I’m never going back there,” Erisa mumbled to herself.

  “I hope you change your mind,” said Verimae.