Oly and Vika sat beside an old circular tea table, the lacquer worn off on the edges, and the cabinets along the wall needed a new coat of paint. The counter and floor was completely clear of dust and grime, and little colorful bouquets of flowers and weeds were placed in various mugs and cups along the windowsill. If he squinted, he could see the market gondolas paddling home for the day and track the progress of the lantern lighter. Their flames winked into view and glittered across the gentle river’s skin with the dimming day. The sun was just out of view, but the brilliant reds stretched plenty far enough to admire.

“This was an old breakroom,” Vika explained as she settled into a creaky chair, “Before Hessy cut down the number of slaves. Not a lot of people know about it, so we can do as we like!”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, well, it started when his- after his coronation. He needed a smaller workload and a ton of his mom’s friends left the palace, so there wasn’t as much need.” She launched into a longer explanation, but his weariness and exhaustion was turning into a pleasant sleepiness at the white noise of her voice.

When he noticed she had stopped talking, he snapped out of it and got hit with a masterful pair of puppy-dog eyes, one hand slowly reaching for the last two cookies. He sighed and relented, pushing the plate towards her.

Vika was like a chisel in the dam he’d built around himself over the past year, but he wasn’t aware of just how quickly the cracks would grow.

First a trickle,

“Can you tell me about where you lived?”

“Oh, the capital. I think you’d like the churches, lots of crystal prisms.” When he got a blank look, he clarified, “lots of rainbows.”

“Why do you worship a rainbow?”

“Each color is a different patron god. Mine is Green, for example. Pina.”

Then a strong leak,

“I don’t think I’ve ever made a friend quite this quickly before.”

“Oh, but you asked so nicely, how could I say no?”

“I think you’re just an overly friendly kind of guy.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to say so, but you definitely mean it in a kinder way.”

“Who said what before?”

“Oh, I believe the term he used was ‘bed-busy.’”

“Ah, he? And who exactly was calling you a slut?”

He gave her a look of warning. “Someone close enough I let it slide.”

Then a full stream,

 “I can’t believe you people worship a rainbow.”

“I can’t believe you people worship bees!”

“That’s different!”

“Oh, how exactly?”

“A bee you can touch, you can see it at work. You can eat honey! You can burn beeswax! A rainbow is a rainbow. Oh, whimsical!”

“Our priests and priestesses are named things like “Brother Blood” and “Sister Evergreen,” but you have beekeepers. Bee monks.”

“Hey-“

“Bonks, if you will.”

“Hey, wait a second, what kind of name is Brother Blood?” He giggled as she went on. “Answer the question, Oly, what kind of name is Brother Blood? What kind of serial killer priests do you have over there?”

“They get names based on color,” He wheezed, she cut him off with a grin.

“There are better red things! Roses! Poppies! Rubies!”

“Kathis is conquest, victory--!”

“What about Brother Murder Weapon?” The longer her names got, the more he laughed, until he was sure he was going to suffocate under, “Have you ever met the humble and peaceful Brother Don’t Mind That Wet Stain On The Wall, Officer, I Swear My Master Is Just Out Gambling Again?”

Finally, a roar, their voices ever-rising, adding without overriding, weaving in and around each other’s words until their speech was a tangle of laughter and at least 3 topics at a time.

He and Vika were well into this mess of a conversation when they heard it from the doorway.

“Oh, no.”

They glanced over to see Calla standing there, looking resigned. “Lords, there’s two of them.” She sighed. Vika burst out laughing.

“Calla! Come sit down!”

She shook her head. “Lucice is wondering where you two are.”

“Bah! You can supervise us, can’t you? No harm in staying up a bit later.”

“No, no,” Oly cut in, rising from the chair and glad someone had broken him out of his focus. He hadn’t realized it while he was having fun, but he was suddenly all-too-aware of how close he was to dropping dead where he stood. “I really need to get to bed.”

Calla gestured to the door. “I’ll come with you two.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you.” Vika cooed, getting to her feet as well.

Vika continued to chatter at Calla on the way to their rooms, and though Calla only lent back the driest of humor, her posture was completely relaxed around Vika. Lagging behind, Oly could see that she looked away whenever Vika was looking at her, but Calla gazed at Vika whenever the girl was looking ahead. Her smile, when he could see it, was fond.

When they came to his door, Oly walked ahead and waved over his shoulder. However, Vika stopped him from opening the door by clasping his hand around the doorknob.

“Oly, there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

He was about to laugh and protest, but—meeting her eyes—she was entirely serious.

“Yes?”

“I like you, and I’d like you to stick around, but Hesiat is my friend. Do you understand?” She tightened her grip. He nodded. “I don’t care who pays you to kiss and tell, and I don’t care if you get spoiled on the way he treats you. If you hurt him, or if you get snippy at me because you think you should have him completely to yourself, let me tell you right now that I’ve been here longer than you. I know how to get rid of threats.”

He was frozen in her stare, caught off guard by the sudden change, but eventually he managed a slow nod. Lark certainly hadn’t noticed that his food was tampered with until it was too late.

“I-I understand your concern.”

“Great.” She released his hand and patted him on the shoulder. “Goodnight, Oly! Sleep well!” Vika gave him an apologetic smile before running back over to Calla.

He had a hard time falling asleep that night.