The Parvions’ city estate was lovely. It had a large, well-tended garden, beautiful art on the walls and ceilings, and was well furnished with sturdy and — according to Herald — comfortable furniture.

  It was also an absolute bust. Herald and I slunk around, listening to people's private conversations and seeing things we shouldn't, but there was no sign of either Sardin, the patriarch, or Onur, the head of security. Two of Sardin’s children lived there with their families, seven adults and four children in all, not counting the ten or so staff. But he, it turned out, did not. He lived with the majority of the House on their farm estate just outside the city — the same one that Tark had visited so often.

  I wanted to leave pretty much as soon as we confirmed that. Herald, the little pirate that she was, had other ideas.

  “You know,” she whispered. Her voice dripped with greed and barely contained malice. “From what the good Parvions have been saying, this estate seems to be where they handle most of their foreign trade from. I imagine there would be all kinds of documents here: contracts, letters, shipping manifests, other notes. It would probably be inconvenient for them if those documents disappeared, or were, perhaps, destroyed. And we happen to know a pair of sisters with their own trading company. I wonder what they could do with inside information on the competition’s affairs.”

  The idea itself surprised me far more than Herald’s glee at the idea of hurting the Parvions. I knew that my family had no love for them. Unfairly, perhaps, but their only contact with that House had been Tarkarran, and as only interactions went he couldn't have been worse. And it wasn't like I had any problems with it; we were planning to spy on one of their most important employees, and possibly kidnap him for interrogation. Commercial espionage just wasn't anything I’d expected.

  Perhaps it was too abstract. If I wanted to hurt someone, I’d just hurt them or scare the piss out of them. If I wanted to profit off them, I’d subjugate them, or just take their stuff. Doing both by going after their business was elegant if we could pull it off, and shouldn't be provable if it was even prosecutable.

  By Karakani law the House Parvion was responsible for Tarkarran’s crimes. We couldn't sue them, exactly — murdering Tark made that inconvenient. So we’d extract compensation in an… alternative way. That was more than fine by me.

  I couldn't answer without Shifting back, so I made an exaggerated “be my guest” gesture with one immaterial hand and followed her lead, sticking to corners, alcoves, and dark rooms with empty doorways as we dodged the few members of the household who were still awake. The study was easy to find, but there was a man working at the low desk, and we had to wait patiently for a short while before he left.

  It wasn’t long before the house was quiet. The study was windowless, near the center of the building, and since guards didn’t patrol there we could get down to the unhurried business of learning their secrets.

  I didn't think much of it when Herald went and found a small earthenware oil lamp, except that I enjoyed how it turned half to shadow as she held it. It was still fully lit as she carried it, the dim light half blinding me and messing something fierce with her magic; it was impressive that she managed, really. But it made sense that she'd want light. We’d never discussed if she could read with her shadowsight, but I couldn't, and I just assumed that she couldn't either. But then she didn't Shift back as she started leafing through papers and opening scrolls, putting some back and sorting others in a small pile, and that niggled at me.

  “That should do,” she said after a good quarter of an hour, shoving her collection of scrolls and papers inside her jacket, where they vanished. “Time to go. After you.”

  I exited the study, and the reason for the lamp became clear to me when I heard it shatter behind me.

  “I honestly thought it was obvious,” Herald said. At least she had the good taste to look contrite. “I did mention destroying their documents. What else did you think the lamp was for?”

  I sighed. “You set the building on fire!”

  Herald had decided to pile a bit of arson onto her espionage. The entire study had been in flames when we left, and Herald had giggled about it until we got outside and saw that the flames had spread to other parts of the building. After that she’d only giggled occasionally until we got back to the inn and Shifted back, and she saw how unamused I was.

  Personally, I wasn’t sure what to think. From the conversations we’d heard, and from the way they treated their staff, the Parvions in residence weren’t bad people. I still didn’t feel bad, as such. They may not be rotten the way Tark had been, but they didn’t really mean anything to me. Conscience was not happy about me damning them by association, but she wasn’t unhappy enough to say anything, and Instinct was pleased as anything about hurting a House that she simply considered The Enemy. But I still felt like I should take an anti-arson stance, at least in this case, and I had to say something.

  “It is a stone building.” Herald said defensively. “I did not think it would spread like that. And they put it out!”

  “There were kids in there, Herald! What if they got hurt?”

  “But everybody got out!”

  “That doesn’t—” I stopped myself. “You know what? There’s no point in arguing about this. You’re smart. You know why it was wrong, and I’m upset with you. Why didn’t you consult me first?”

  “I really thought you knew,” she pouted. “And I had to cover up the theft somehow!”

  “That doesn’t— okay, yes, that is a good point,” I conceded. Good luck to them figuring out that anything was missing. “But I wish you’d told me first.”

  She flung up her hands. “What, I have to ask you before I do anything now? Gods, you’re like Mak sometimes!”

  “That’s not a bad thing, and you know it.”

  “Of course I know it,” she sighed. “I could not have said anything otherwise.”

  I froze, suddenly speechless. Hearing her say that, and the way she said it, the resignation in her voice, hurt enough that I actually thought she’d done it on purpose. That she might have put some thought into how to hurt me if she ever needed to, and found something terribly effective. But then… she couldn’t. And being reminded of that didn’t make it any better. It utterly stole the air from beneath my wings.

  “Whatever,” I muttered, slumping to the floor, head turned away from her. “You should get those papers to Mak and to the Tesprils. See what you all can do with them. The Parvions trade in spices and dyes, right? And the Tesprils in wool, mostly. Might be some, what’s it, synergy there.”

  Herald gave an annoyed huff. “Draka—”

  “Just go.”

  “Is that an order?” she snapped.

  I may have flinched. Or twitched, at least. Again, if I wasn’t so sure that she couldn’t consciously try to hurt me…

  “Is it?” she said, a little less harshly this time. I moved my head just enough that I could look up at her. She looked unhappy. Sad, angry, annoyed, confused, all kinds of things that I hated to see on her.

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Good,” she said angrily, and sat down with her back against me. “Then we can talk about this like goddamn adults. What is wrong?”

  “You set a house on fire, for one.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “We both know that is not what is bothering you. You were a little annoyed about that, but you did not get upset until— Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, Draka,” she sighed. “You need to get over that. I have. Mak has. It happened. It is how things are, and we would not have it any other way. I do not know how many times you need to hear this, but I will keep telling you until it gets through your axe-proof skull: we are happy!”

  “It’s not just that.”

  “Then what?”

  From just beneath the surface of my mind, Conscience asserted herself, and I didn’t bother trying to stop her. I was in a self-flagellatory mood even without her, and what better way to hurt yourself than with words? “The killing,” I said. “The casual violence in general. The arson, now. I’m changing you.”

  “We all change each other, all the time. That is what happens. You cannot live together without changing one another.”

  “I’m changing you for the worse.”

  Herald snorted. “Wow. That… are you trying to offend me, Draka?”

  I actually flinched at that. “Of course not!”

  “Well, you have!” she said, and I flinched again, but it didn’t even make her hesitate. “I take pride in who I have become! I love myself. Every day, I love myself more. Every day, I am prouder of myself, of how strong and resilient and self-assured I have become. And you have a hand in making me that way, whether you tried to or not. You, and Mak, and Lalia. I have modelled myself after all of you. Ever since I met you, I have constantly asked myself, 'What would Draka do? What would Mak say? How would Lalia handle this situation?' But mostly you. And nine times out of ten I have had to moderate myself, because I do not have the confidence or the courage to act as you would, or because I know that I do not have the presence any of you do. Well, I am getting there. If you feel that I am becoming more ‘casually violent,’ it is in part because I am emulating you. And I am proud of that.”

  She swallowed, and her voice shook as she said, “When you call me your little dragon, it makes me so fucking proud. Do you even understand why I love this so much?” She turned the left side of her head toward me, laying one finger on her ear ornament. “Not just because it’s gold, and beautiful. But because it reminds me that I’m yours. Your little dragon. Don’t you dare cheapen that. Don’t you dare call me that, and then tell me I should be less like you. Because I love you, you big, dumb lizard. And I love what you have allowed me to become. Don’t take that away from me!”

  “But— but what if I’m making you want to be like that? What if you would have been a completely different person if not for me?”

  She grabbed me by my horn and pulled. She couldn’t have budged my head no matter how hard she tried, but I let myself be forced to look her in the eye.

  “I know, with certainty, that I would have been,” she said. “And I pity that Herald. She is a lesser woman than I, if she is even alive today. Most likely, she died in that mine. But even if she didn’t, if she somehow finished the gremlin job with just Val and Mak and got Tam free, and if they are all alive, she is a weaker, sadder, lonelier version of me. I am the best version of me I can imagine. I am living my best life. Some hardship and violence only adds to the excitement of that life, and I would not miss it for the world. I enjoy the fighting. Judge me if you must, but I hope you will not, because you do not have a leg to stand on. I do not enjoy killing, as such, but I take great comfort in knowing that I can, when it is necessary.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t. Don’t say it.” She pulled on my horn and sat up straighter herself, putting her face only inches from mine. “It happened. It’s how things are. I’m happy. The only parts of my life I am not happy with are that Mag is not with me, that he’s in danger, and that you keep hurting yourself with what ifs. Please. Stop.”

  She stared at me, not blinking until I did. “All right.”

  “Good,” she said. She kissed me lightly on the snout and stood. “I will hold you to that. Now I am going to tell Mak how proud I am of her for not leaping out of bed the moment you got back, and then — in the morning, because she needs her sleep — we can show her the documents I acquired. And you go enjoy that ever-growing pile of pillows and blankets, before you outgrow the strong room entirely.”

  “I still think the arson was excessive,” I muttered.

  She just rolled her eyes, letting me have the last word. With that, she flounced up the stairs, leaving me alone in the cellar. And I laid down right where I was, because I didn’t have any keys for the strong room, and I was not going to ruin her moment by calling her back.

  The next evening found us at the Parvions’ farming estate, which was also lovely; a sprawling compound halfway between the forest and Karakan. The villa was appropriately huge, its central atrium the size of a small town square, with a rainwater pool you could do laps in.

  I’d taken Herald to recharge her Heart during the afternoon, flying farther and slower than necessary. Conversation was less relaxed than usual and had been all day, like we barely trusted ourselves to speak. That only made me want to spend time with her more. Being together felt essential. And she held on tighter than normal as we flew, lying with her cheek pressed into my neck instead of enjoying the view the way she usually did.

  We barely spoke, but the silences were still comfortable.

  The silence lingered even as we snuck around the villa. That was for the best; even us shadows had a hard time staying hidden in the kind of environment we found.

  We’d made sure to get there while we could still expect most adults to be awake, and the villa was practically crowded with members of the family, people living under the protection of the House, and several dozen staff. On top of the large number of people there was a whole tribe of cats, and a number of dogs roamed the compound and the inside of the villa freely. The place was brightly lit by lamps, braziers, and, in the center of one wall in the atrium, an enchanted plate that cast a bright, white light. Considering how valuable Mak and Tam had estimated the lightstones to be, that plate must have cost an absolute fortune.

  The Parvions, to my vague discomfort, still seemed like a generally decent lot. They consoled their family members, who were staying with them while the city estate was restored after the fire. They talked about art, and trade, and how to aid the war effort. They treated the staff well and showed each other a lot of genuine affection. I couldn’t fathom how someone like Tarkarran could have sprung from these people; he must have been broken from birth, or had something genuinely terrible happen to him.

  But their head of security had still conspired with or hired Vestel to attack my House and kidnap Kira, so Herald and I were going to do what we had to to find how deep the guilt ran.

  Identifying Onur had been as easy as hanging around the atrium. That was where most of the socializing happened, and we simply waited until someone called him by name, drawing him into a conversation about the fire and whether it was accidental or not.

  Onur was short, only a little taller than Tam, middle aged, with close cropped graying hair and a drawn face, and his opinion was that the fire was “technically accidental, but caused by such an absurd level of negligence that it might as well have been intentional.” The conversation continued for another short while, mostly about how to find who was responsible, since no one had come forward. But soon people started drifting off to their rooms, the staff tidying after them, and Onur excused himself as quickly as was politely possible, claiming an early morning.

  We followed him. The man had a private room at one of the outside corners of the villa, sizable but sparsely furnished with only a bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk. We only got a quick look before he closed the door, but that was apparently enough for Herald.

  “I have an idea,” she whispered to me as we huddled in a dark alcove. “We want him alone, right? Let us not make it too complicated…”

  Not much later, I was waiting in the orchard outside Onur’s room. Making my way outside undetected had taken a while, but Onur’s room was at a corner and finding the right place was easy. A thin trickle of light still spilled out from the single, shuttered window, and I imagined the man reading or doing some late paperwork before bed. No matter. I was in no rush, and Herald had promised, unprompted, to be patient.

  The light at the edges of the window flickered, then died.

  A few minutes later, the window shutters swung outward. To anyone else it would have looked like they opened on their own. I, with my shadowsight, was treated to Herald’s impish grin and a wink before she vanished from the window to hide again in the shadows.

  At first nothing happened. The shutters hadn’t slammed against the facade or otherwise made much noise, so they wouldn’t have woken Onur up immediately. Still, I moved in closer, in reach of the window, and waited patiently below it.

  I considered tapping or otherwise making some noise, but it proved unnecessary. Soon a wind picked up, and I could hear papers fluttering and unhappy noises from the man within. After a minute or two he snorted, followed by a muttered, “Oh, damn it all!” and shuffling steps.

  Onur appeared in the window. I Shifted back, still practically invisible under the starlight. He spread his arms as though to welcome me as he grabbed the shutters.

  He was too shocked to even yelp as I rose and pulled him out.

  I didn’t particularly want to break him to my will, but the moment I had my hands on him I wrapped him up in shadow and kept him that way. For one, I didn’t want him raising any kind of alarm, and paralyzing him with terror was a good way to handle that while Herald leaped out the window and onto my back. For another, we needed truthful answers out of him, and while we needed to be sure that he wouldn’t tell anyone that we’d questioned him, making him disappear wasn’t an option. First Vestel, then Onur? If there was anyone else involved, that would simply look too suspicious.

  No, Onur would be returning to his bed tonight, little worse for wear and changed forever. But first, we needed to have a frank and open conversation.

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