TRISTAN

It had been years since I'd last been in the tiny room that had been my home for most of my childhood. The view from the window hadn't changed much. The trees were a little bigger, and the rose bush in the courtyard was in desperate need of trimming.

I set my bags on the bed, and the thought of how I lost my virginity right there hit me. We were two very inexperienced girls giggling together, exploring each other's bodies and finding an equal amount of ticklish spots as we did pleasurable.

After an awkward month of careful flirting, we found out that we had something in common, hiding from the world. As it turned out, a surprisingly high number of young women donned their own male persona to flee an arranged marriage or a horrible home life. It was probably where Mom got the idea.

For the handful of young men and women I had been with, I only had to say I was scared of my father finding me, and they let me be, believing they were letting me heal at my own pace.

Guilt still wracked my heart for claiming my father would ever bring harm to me. It hurt more that I knew he would have insisted upon the ruse himself.

Lingering in the past never did anyone any good. I shook my head free of the thoughts and set about my next task. It would be freezing by the time we reached Lysan, and we weren't prepared for the harsher climate. I needed to track down some proper winter clothes.

The halls of the Crypt were achingly familiar, and I traced my fingers over the stone walls as I made my way to the store rooms. Soft magic hummed under my fingertips, and I wanted to reach out and let it caress my Core.

I pulled my hand away as I reached the store rooms.

I had prepared myself for disappointment, but the store rooms were well-stocked. Piles and racks of clothing lined the walls. They must have gotten a recent shipment. The Bellis Crypt had never seen much traffic since it wasn't on a main road, but they still received their fair share of donations that they would collect and distribute, be it to needy travelers or nearby villages.

I poked through a few piles, relieved that there was a good variety to choose from. There was even a nice new coat to replace mine. Since someone thought the collar was too frayed. 

And that I had a squinty smile. Even though there was surface level attraction for that squinty smile.

It was an obnoxious reminder that random feelings weren't always true indicators of a person's feelings. I had seen enough auras with clashing attraction and hatred to know better. La'Bells, Olwen and Monty still glowed in rosy pinks for each other even though there was nothing between them. Olwen had been a constant glimmer of pink around Gareth while we had stayed at the Almers safehouse, and she couldn't stand his wide-eyed optimism.

I shifted through the piles as realization dawned that I was going to have to get an idea for what size Vincent wore. Tall, trim, handsome, and with an atrocious haircut. I wouldn't let Monty near scissors again. And I certainly wouldn't let him be in charge of even suggesting what Vincent should wear.

I gave up on clothing and moved to where the tools were kept. There were no decent scissors hiding in the drawers and trunks. I would have to borrow them elsewhere.

There were, however, enough random tools to build a decent kit for a traveling charm worker. 

I tapped the side of the open drawer. I was pretty certain Keeper Steffen would be able to forge a passing license.

Collecting the necessary tools, I then went about hunting down some other supplies. Thread, bits of leather, maybe some beads I could salvage from donated jewelry. 

I tucked everything I had found into a leather bag and looked at the doorway in time to see Olwen enter. She smiled when she saw me. 

"Same idea, huh?" she asked, running her eyes over the stacks of clothing. She picked up a pretty blue dress with embroidered white flowers along the hem and sighed softly before putting it back.

"Probably," I replied with a shrug. "Lysan's in the mountains, so we better get some nice winter coats while we still can. We might have a decent sum to work with, but we're traveling with four people."

"We should also see about getting some maps," she said as she scratched her head. Seeing my confusion, she explained. "I'm gonna try to get in touch with Base, and I have the feeling they're gonna want us to milk as much information outta that kid as possible."

"I thought we were just gonna get a list."

"Seeing names helps. Do you remember every town we've stayed in off the top of your head?"

She was right, and I shook my head with a sigh. "I'll talk to Keeper Amphalise. There's bound to be plenty of maps we can take and mark as needed."

"Great. I'll see about getting him started on a list we can send to Base in the meantime. We can drop some maps off at Honeywood."

"Honeywood?"

"It's on the way to Lysan."

Monty's hometown and close enough to one of Reinier's spelled properties that we would have to check it out. Base would most likely ask us to give everything along the way a cursory glance. Especially if Vincent could get us in.

"That'll be fun," I muttered.

"As long as we don't hit it during a festival. Farm festivals are the worst. Almost as bad as coastal towns. Less fish, but more cows." Her nose scrunched up at the thought. "The smell evens out."

I picked up the dress she had been looking at and handed it to her. "In case we do end up somewhere during a festival. You deserve something nice."

She took the dress and looked at me, shaking her head and sighing. "You're too sweet for this life, Tristan."

"Not really."

"I suppose not," she agreed with a hearty laugh. "That might just be your face. But you certainly do have the maturity required to make the right decisions."

I gave her a doubtful look. 

"You're not going out of your way to make Vincent suffer for his father's crimes. I know you're capable."

"I think that's Monty's job right now. Besides, I thought I was too sweet for that."

"Like I said, your face is doing a lot of work on that front. I know you're the one who poisoned Alberto Marrus. Next time, do us all a favor and up the dosage."

It took me a moment to remember who she was referring to. "He survived?!"

Olwen looked equally shocked. "He wasn't supposed to?"

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to find the words. Mallou, I must have mismeasured something. That despicable excuse for a man was supposed to be dead. An entire safehouse was lost because of him. "No! No, he wasn't."

"Oh. Next time, lemme know, and I'll help. Won't be the first body I've dumped. But, uh, if it makes you feel any better, someone finished the job while he was recovering."

"Good."

She nodded and dropped her eyes to the dress, running her fingers along the fabric. "It's getting to be harvest season," she said wistfully. "We should all find something nice."

"I already dress nice."

She looked me over with an unimpressed tilt to her brows. "You dress like you're going to work."

"I am working. I don't need anything special. I'm not here to impress anyone." I didn't need to stand out more than I already did.

"The Lurint Crypt will be on the way," she said, her tone taking on a teasing note.

Why did I ever tell Olwen about what happened to my first love?