The problem with trying to mediate an upcoming fight between two parties of people you didn’t know was that there was no smart way to actually stop them from going at one another. Otter had no leverage, no diplomatic options, no way to reason with them. She only had violence, which was the one thing she was trying to avoid.

  Still, she had something that’d always worked in the past: a complete and utter inability to be predicted. A lot of people tended to balk at the unexpected.

  So, as Otter walked towards the Mikovian soldiers, she smirked as widely as she could, turned her back, and did her best Moonwalk in their direction, all while singing Billie Jean as loudly as she could.

  She only had a general idea of where the Mikovians were, and with her back to them, couldn’t really judge where they were in retion to her performance. She didn’t really do either the song or the dance justice, but the spectacle alone was worth it, and when she spun to face them, a manic smile on her face, she found a crowd of confused soldiers in front of her.

  Their leader cocked her head to the side, as if trying to figure out what to make of this singing and dancing madwoman, and ultimately nded on a polite ugh, followed by stabbing her two-handed sword into the ground and giving a small series of cps.

  “Brilliant,” the woman said. “Excellent. No fear. I love it.”

  “Oh? Do I have something to fear?”

  “Some would say yes.”

  “Oh, well, as long as some people would say yes, I guess I better do that then. Hold on.” She did an exaggerated shiver, hugging herself tightly. “There, frightened enough?”

  “Oh, I like you.”

  She took off her helmet, handing it to one of her subordinates. Long, white hair spilled out, barely held together into a bun. Her skin was pale, unnaturally so. The kind of pale goth kids smoking cloves in cemeteries dreamed of. A pair of crystalline blue eyes shadowed with kohl stared at Otter, a cruel smile, lips painted red, adjoining them.

  Otter knew that face. She’d seen it once before, on the Dreamer.

  The Dreamer had been hinting at something, teasing at future knowledge in a way that was meant to be a little bit mocking, the kind of childish ‘I know something you don’t know’ that you expected to see only on pygrounds and at Warhammer 40K Reddit threads.

  Future girlfriend material? Probably. But just as likely to be a deadly nemesis. It was either sex or violence, with the Dreamer involved. Maybe both.

  The Mikovian wasn’t just good looking. It was like there was an energy around her, like she was soaking in rizz and aura and whatever other dumb terms people used to describe simple charisma. It was like there was a universal command that was issued in the woman’s presence, demanding you to bow and worship, and a part of Otter wanted to fall to her knees and do just that.

  But that’d be kind of cringe, and while Otter could be as cringe as the next person, she absolutely refused to fuck up a first impression where a hot woman was on the line.

  “Wukong pole fuck me silly, you are gorgeous,” Otter breathed, and then realized she’d said that out loud.

  Well, so much for not being cringe.

  The Mikovian woman affected a bored expression. “So I’ve been told. So, is there something you wanted with me?”

  “I could think of a few things I want with you.”

  “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”

  “And what exactly is your type?”

  “Men, usually. Women don’t exactly… inspire me.”

  “A shame. I can be your muse.”

  “I doubt it. Many compare me to a finely crafted bde, a surgical instrument. You appear to be a blunt object. A stone, perhaps.”

  “Yeah. A whet stone.” Otter waggled her eyebrows at the woman. “I can sharpen you in ways you’ve never imagined, get you deeper than you’ve ever been. But I suppose that would leave me just a stone, and you the one being wet.”

  “Doubtful,” the woman said, though her face looked more amused than anything else now. “The fire I have burns too hot to be so easily drenched.”

  “Oh, so you’re looking for someone to stoke your fmes? Is that what you want? To be stoked?” Otter made a hand gesture as if she were waving air at an imaginary fire, and then changed it up to just two fingers, slowly beckoning. “Or just stroked?”

  The Mikovian ughed. “Where did you come from? You’re very straightforward.”

  “Pretty sure no one’s ever mistaken me for straight before. I need to try a little harder if you think I’m not completely gay for you.”

  “Well, you certainly are trying.”

  “But I prefer to be tying.”

  Against her better judgement, Otter activated her Thread of the Scourge and cast it out at one of the woman’s hands, catching it in a very loose loop. Easy to get out of, more of a simple way of showing off.

  One of her fellow soldiers drew his sword two inches from his scabbard and took a step forward before his commander waved him down. He jammed his weapon back into pce and returned to his position as if nothing untoward had happened.

  The Mikovian woman looked at the golden thread now encircling her hand, plucking at it with her free one. “Ah, a Pactholder, too. Now I am curious.”

  “See, I knew we’d get that curiosity out of you.”

  The woman bowed her head slightly, acknowledging the point scored. “And who might you be? You’ve been in the city for I daresay an hour, and already I’ve heard reports of a pink-haired woman with Pact magic that beat one of Jua’s soldiers bloody, and travelling in the company of our long lost Seat, Rua Hyleah.”

  Otter assumed a pose, about to orate and announce herself as if to a court, but someone interrupted her.

  “Her name is Otter.”

  Crap. She knew that voice.

  She turned to the male figure behind her, a Korean man dressed in a bck cloak and dark leathers, as edgy as ever.

  Il-Su. Silence.

  “Ah,” the Mikovian woman said, as Il-Su walked to join her. “One of your… acquaintances?”

  “Yes. I don’t know her personally, but I know of her, and we come from… the same pce.”

  Oh no. Otter didn’t like the sound of that. Was Il-Su running around telling random people about them, about their circumstances? I mean, she’d done the same with Rua. And technically with Sunny. But those were different.

  “Yep, that’s me,” Otter said weakly. “Otter Kaos, First of my Name, insert joke about Game of Thrones here, but I already did that one.”

  That earned her a few askance looks, but she was used to that by this point in her life.

  She just had to compose herself, get control of the conversation back. It wasn’t even a matter of stopping a brawl between some Siyans and Mikovians now, and whatever political fallout bullshit that might follow. She just couldn’t look like an idiot in front of Il-Su.

  They’d been tight back in the day, and even if she’d ghosted him as well after the whole retionship debacle, she’d always liked him as a friend and had regretted what had happened afterwards, even if she’d never really understood it.

  Il-Su had gone nuclear in the months following her leaving, publicly breaking up with both Sami and Everett and going Scorched Earth, burning everything he could on his way out the door, accusing Sami of being a toxic human being and airing out all their drama for the entire world to see, even pying recordings of some of their arguments taken out of context on stream.

  He hadn’t just set their retionship on fire, he’d nuked it from orbit and did his best to make Sami look like the bad guy. And while Sami wasn’t exactly innocent, neither were the rest of them. Poly retionships were messy, especially if you were new to the idea. Everyone made mistakes, even sweet, dumb Everett.

  Maybe Sami had made more than the rest of them, but they’d always been understandable missteps that Otter had forgiven her for until… Well, that one didn’t matter anymore.

  Otter was so tired of the past.

  She held out a hand, palm down, watched how steady it was, took a deep breath, and then smiled.

  “So, how you doing, Il-Su? You never call, you never write…”

  He straightened, adjusted his hood, and looked away. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Right, busy, sure.” Otter made sure to catch the Mikovian’s eye. “Better watch out for this one. He doesn’t like to honour simple deals.”

  She pced a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched, but didn’t move away. Her grip tightened. “Oh, I’m aware what kind of snake he is. But don’t worry about me. I have this one well in hand.”

  That sounded a little too couched in innuendo for Otter’s tastes. Was Il-fucking-Su really blueboxing her right now? Il-Su of all people? Dude had all the game of, well, a livestreaming shut-in. The only reason at all he’d managed to stumble into a polycule romance was because Everett had seduced him into it.

  “It’s too bad,” Otter said. “He doesn’t look assertive enough for your tastes. I bet he just kind of lies there like a wide-eyed prey animal and just lets you take him.”

  “Maybe I like that.”

  “Nah. A fierce warrior-type like you? I know what your kind likes. Oh, sure, you get off on conquest. It’s what inspired you to be a warrior in the first pce. But some part of you, in the back of your mind, is always nagging away, how it’s too easy. That just for once, you’d like to lose. See what it’s like on the other side.”

  The Mikovian ughed, a silvery peel that sounded far sexier than it had any right to. “Are we speaking from experience?”

  “Oh, fuck no, I lose all the time. Just…” She was about to say, ‘just ask Il-Su,’ but Il-Su had no idea that she was Mayumi. And honestly, she kind of wanted to keep it that way until she figured out more of what was going on in this situation. “Just look at this ass of mine. It was made for falling on when I get knocked down.”

  Otter twisted her hip a little and gave herself a sharp smack. And that Mikovian woman’s eye definitely took it in. Checkmate. Not one hundred percent hetero, her gaydar wasn’t broken after all.

  “So, c’mon, I humoured you,” Otter said. “Introduced myself. Can I have your name now, pretty?”

  “Pretty,” the woman said, as if unused to hearing that word used to describe her. Which was probably true. Most would probably nd on ‘beautiful,’ ‘gorgeous,’ or ‘orgasm-inducing.’ “I’m surprised you don’t already know my name, even if you’re new to Ri Oa. Rua must have mentioned me.”

  Oh. Oh crap. Double crap.

  “I am Battalion Lord Kirhae Maravok, second-in-command of the Mikovian defense force, Seat of Maravok, Burden of Dreams.”

  Triple crap.

  “Oh, so you’re the other bitch sister,” Otter said. “Well, at least you’re good looking enough to justify the behaviour, I guess. Jua doesn’t even have that.”

  Kirhae smiled widely at that. “Oh, I like you.”

  “Yeah, but now I’m not so sure about you. Gonna have to pause the flirting until I can talk it out with my girlfriend. Sad. I bet I could’ve gotten you into bed before the night was out otherwise.”

  “Confident. I like that in subordinates. Say, could I interest you in a duel?”

  Il-Su was suddenly in between them, both arms outstretched as if to separate them. His eyes were a little wild.

  “We should go,” he said. “We got what we came for.”

  “Yes, but now I want more, I think. I’ve already grown bored with you. I could use a new toy.”

  “Kir.”

  The word was sharp, crisp, and ced with a tone of warning. And it was issued from a voice Otter hadn’t expected to be avaible yet.

  Rua stepped in, her face hard and eyes angry, and moved in front of Otter with one hand at the hatchet still looped into her belt.

  “Rua,” Kirhae said, bowing her head a half inch.

  “She’s mine. Go find someone else to torment.”

  “Isn’t it the custom of your people to share?”

  “You haven’t shared anything since you were a child.”

  “Ah, the buta root, you remember. I miss those days.”

  Something warred on Rua’s face before turning hostile. “Go. You need to go, now.”

  Kirhae took a step forward, and Rua grew tense. Otter had no idea how to read this. She didn’t know if a fight was going to break out or not. But then, Kirhae crossed the distance, leaned forward, and kissed Rua on the forehead. Rua closed her eyes and shook, her fists clenched.

  “I hate you,” Rua whispered. “I hate you all, for what you do to me.”

  “I know,” Kirhae said, patting her on the cheek fondly. “When the time comes, you know what you’ll have to do.”