At first, Kalaya struggles against her captor. Straining wrists against the figure looming over her. A dream about Hell is a new one - but she doesn't scare so easily. She has faced down Cathak in the other's own brig after all - some demon will not break her!

But then, the figure speaks. And oh.

It's Vee.

"Oh ... uh ... h-hey Vee!" she says, ceasing her fight and wow those hands are strong pinning her down like that. She gives one last half-hearted wriggle, not really trying to get out. Just a little for show. Ah! No! I mean ... nevermind! Is it just Hell or is it getting hotter in here?

"I - I'm fine! Not hurt, not badly! At least, not anymore! Thanksforcheckinguponme!" she says, running out of breath to steady a rapidly beating heart. "I mean ... um ... wait ... let me start over!"

A few more steadying breaths later.

"It's okay." she says, once her breathing has slowed and her cheeks have faded back to a light pink. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine! Better than fine, even! I'm on a Dominion barge sailing up the river from Kingeater. They're looking after me, at least they are now. And the other knight, Ushua of Holly, is locked in the brig."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I still don't like the Dominion and am hoping to stop them from taking over the Kingdoms. Kind of like how I'm also trying to stop you from taking over the kingdoms. But not in the same way, because I don't like them. But I li- I mean ... I'm talking too much."

If her hands were free she'd have facepalmed.

"I have to warn you!" she says instead, covering her embarrassment with more words, with the same success as a drowning man trying to drink his way to safety. "There's a War-fate in play here."

"Mars himself has decreed - The conflict between the Dominion and the Kingdom. Between Ushua and Cathak Agata. It will cause you to die at the Stag-knight's hands." Kalaya continues, voice firming as she speaks. "Now I am not going to let that happen. I mean to unpick this prophecy and spin it back on the General. It's what he deserves for threatening you."

Kalaya looks deep into that yellow veil, unsure if Vee can actually see her through this demon's eyes or if this is just some kind of messenger on her behalf.

In hindsight, the latter would be very disappointing for some reason.

"I don't know how fair this is to ask, but can you please, please, stay clear of this until it's done? There are too many threads of fate wrapped around this barge and I don't want to risk you. I don't want to lose you. Not now. Not ever."

It isn’t so simple as reaching out and taking a dragon by the neck. Lotus’ chair squeaks as she pushes it back, and it’s the loudest noise she makes as she rises and passes around the table. She is too small to reach. She must get closer. Close enough to see the damage. Close enough to touch. Close enough to. To…

“Uhhh, why would I? It’s not anything serious. It’ll go away in a few days. Doesn’t. Really need…”

Han flicks her eyes up. Up. That’s where her eyes are. That’s where to look. Don’t pay attention to the splash of red at the edge of her vision, a shining jewel set in gold. Don’t cross the edge from smooth, flawless skin to someplace new. Don’t land where all is soft, and full, and warm. Don’t sink into a red so deep she cannot see the bottom.

“I heal pretty fast. You don’t gotta do any. Sorta. Priestess…thing.”

Glistening. Catching the lights above as a sweet voice flows like honey. Watch them dance and play, shaping around each passing word. Welcoming the sound. Gently, so gently, sending it on its way. To her. For her. They meet, and part, and every beautiful thing she’s ever known was shadow and dust next to their mystery.

“H-hadn’t really see you, much. So. Not. Chances, to.”

Priestesses are to be seen, never touched. Demigods are priestesses times the biggest number she can think of. But words mean nothing now. Her own thoughts mean nothing now. Inside, she is nothing more than screaming, howling, clawing at her shame. A burning weight forces her down. All the strength in the world cannot lift her eyes. She cannot breathe. Stop. Stop. She’s unveiled. She sees you. She’s right here. She knows. Stop it. Don’t. Not her. You can’t. Don’t. Stop. Stop. Is this what you want? Is this what you want?!

“Ugh. Just. Hold on-!”

She grabs the hem of her sleeveless robe and with a sharp jerk tears off a strip of cloth. The jagged edge frays, the whole thing is much too long, but it’ll work. It’ll work, dammit.

With both hands, she reaches past Lotus’ shoulders, brushes back her hair, and ties a fumbling knot behind her head. Nothing fancy. Over and under and through and pull. Pull, until the gentlest pressure holds it in place. The length of opaque silk rests atop Lotus’ ears, perches on the very tip of her nose. It hangs down, hiding the lower half of her face. With each breath, it flutters. In, and out. Away, and back.

Lotus must think she’s being some kind of honorable. A makeshift veil, to protect a demigod’s modesty, torn from the only fabric she had to hand. She’ll feel Han’s fingers adjust the cloth against her temples, smooth out the wrinkles, and she’ll think her nice.

Her thumb presses into her lips. It sinks into soft warmth. The barest hint of friction tugs at her skin as she traces across them.

Lotus freezes where she stands. Later, she’ll think it an accident.

“There. Better.” She sits back. Withdraws her tingling hand. “You, uh, said something about helping?”

Wrong, bud. All wrong.

This veil’s not for you. It’s for her. A dragon. A greedy, ugly, beast who can’t control herself. Barely better than your stupid host. Hide yourself away. You don’t want to be hers. You can’t be hers. The day you see her for who she truly is, see her burn the world in her hunger, will be the last day she ever sees you.

Hold fast, little veil. Don’t tear just yet.

please.

[Han is Smitten with Lotus, finally. She accepts Lotus’ help, but first must do something about her mouth. Han takes two Strings on Lotus, clears Frightened. Lotus takes a String on Han. Emli takes two Strings on Lotus, and three on Han.]

Piripiri's Cabin

"The largest individual problem for the Dominion, Uusha, resolved itself today. That leaves, as far as I'm aware, three major threats to the Dominion's aims in the area."

She is too well schooled to let anything so crass as feelings show, but if you're still touching those strands there's a tangled knot of complicated yearning there, swiftly shoved back down where it won't interfere. Tastes like... unworthiness? The pause, meanwhile, isn't stalling. This isn't how she's used by Agata, she's got all the information to make this analysis and the training, but she's not been asked before now. The Princess of the Blood in charge here lacks advisors: a job opening, a stepping stone, perhaps, if you're skilled enough and have the desire.

"The first issue is the concept of Knighthood in general. As currently conceived of, Knights of the Flower Kingdoms will oppose any overt attempts at bringing the region into our sphere of influence, and they have the legacy and cultural weight to be listened to when they issue a call to arms. Uusha being removed from play is a step here, but care must be made to avoid making her a martyr. To counteract this, my personal idea would be engineering or revealing a scandal wide enough to hit a majority of knight's reputation, and encourage and train those with promise to be much more strictly targeted. Teach them to stay out of messy politics, unlike that last set of dirty knights, and quest against the N'yari, the fey, the demons, and other long-established regional or Creational threats."

"The second issue is Sapphire Mother of Lotuses, the head of the regional court of gods. She's fiercely independent and is savvy enough to recognize what we're doing, even though we've played the game well enough that she can't directly call us on it without us being able to deny and gather sympathy. I can't comment on any potential countermeasures there, it's under seal." There's a sly grin, though, so it exists.

"The final issue would be the Warlock Ven. She's got strong ties to the brass and has already caused one Hellbreach. The region currently opposes her, given the brass, but if it came out overtly what we were after it's possible that she'd be welcomed in as the local black knight, distasteful but needed to defend the Kingdoms. If we could bargain with her, she might be a useful pawn, but she's too destabilizing to the region to be worth keeping around. She's also deeply enough in debt to the brass, I suspect, that if we called in a truly large favor they may give her to us. Expensive, but also neatly removes the problem. Any number of ways to deal with her, really."

She falls silent, waiting for your next question. The tea's gone quite cold, but that's not the point of this anymore, is it?

Interrogation Room One

"I am going to skip over the first, oh, hundred years or so since we first exchanged formal envoys. Trade flourished, we admired their history, they enjoyed ours. We grew closer.

Thirty-two years ago, they made the legal case that the Empress's line could be considered one of the Houses, by our standards. The genealogies were more thorough than some of the existing houses, the precedent to raising up a new House existed, but the deciding factor of their bid was that when the first attempt was politely rebuffed, the second envoy sailed the Lamentation off the coast of Hymair and sent the same letter back. We agreed to the second bid.

Twenty-eight years ago, the First Prince died, and the Empress was elected the new First Prince. A lifetime appointment. Seven of now-twelve houses were in favor.

Twenty-six years ago, House Elone rebelled. They'd been one of the nay votes, and never approved of the new House Domina. They were wiped out, an unprecedented reprisal, solely by the might of Domina. And all the other Houses, were they one, could have resisted, but law and tradition were on Domina's side until the very end, and so we were lessened.

Twenty-three years ago, the fourth child of Uru and Mirana of House Seumul was born, and as I grew up I understood more and more how precarious our position was. How much that one nay vote may cost us, should we seem to be following in Elone's footsteps. And I endeavored to be... useful."

She's finished tending the bruises, the cuts and stressed muscles treated. How long's it been since the last time this happened, somebody taking care of Uusha fully, not just squeezing it in between fights and marches? She sits against the door, lowering herself with a groan of pain to the floor, and faces the prisoner.

"None of this is an excuse. I do dark deeds in the service of somebody else's ambition, and I would like to think I am honest with myself about this. But I hope this at least gives you an idea of why."

Giriel!

Three Gleaming Petals has had several jobs over the course of her ageless life. Once she was the goddess of a simple village, its name now known only to her; from there she became a fertility deity for the northeastern kingdoms, and she successfully managed to leverage that into a cabinet position in the House of Lapis Lazuli. Even in her voluminous robes and her elaborate flower-wreathed bun, it’s impossible for her to completely hide her broad shoulders and hands, the physique of someone who still tends to gardens by hand.

More worryingly, she seems uncharacteristically frazzled; her bun, usually perfect, is frizzing, and the hem of her shining blue robe is muddy. “Oh, Bruinstead,” she says, when she materializes from smoke, delight clear on her tired face. (Feel free to explain what, exactly, you have helped her with before.) She drapes herself on the furniture and accepts the offering of rich southern rum, knocking it back like a shot.

“Hmm? Yes? This?” When she takes the prayer slips from your hands, she frowns. “Well, the slip is from An-Teng. Presumably, brought here by the Dominion.” She gives you (and your collar) a sidelong glance, and purses her lips around saying more on that subject. “The ink was made in Chiaroscuro, in one of the old workshops, beneath the sign of the Yellow Moon. And I can’t tell you a single thing about the writer!” Which, of course, presuming that she is telling the truth (with little reason to lie), means that it was written by someone outside of Fate and the gods’ domains: the fairies, or the demons, or the dead. Of those, of course the demon maids are the most likely; one imagines a clandestine heist to steal writing supplies, forced to work together to get what they want separately.

Three Gleaming Petals graciously accepts more rum. “Don’t tease me, Bruinstead,” she continues. “Is this about the imminent rebellion, which no god will claim credit for, or is this about those damned demons spilling out of Kingeater’s? You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard the whole thing was finally torn down— and good riddance to it! We don’t need the old guard meddling in our affairs! And little help from Yu-Shan, either—“

And here she stops, suddenly, as if aware she treads on dangerous ground. “But tell me more about your change in circumstances, Bruinstead. This isn’t the hill country, and I could almost swear I was at the world’s axis, seeing this imperial finery on you.”

The trick is that she wants to trust you. She wants to tell you about the untrustworthy emissary sent from Heaven who humiliated a priestess and vanished into a rakshasa’s den. She wants to tell you about her search for Lotus of Tranquil Waters, to beg you for your help in finding her, to overextend and offer you whatsoever you might please, if it brings the wayward girl back to the House of Lapis Lazuli, to her distraught mother’s arms. And she will. But she hesitates to divulge this to the Dominion, to the invader.

You have many ways that you can come to the same place: by reassuring her of your neutrality and your old vows, despite the Dominion collar, whether you mean it or not, and sincerely offering aid with what troubles her; you can ply her with offerings and rum and trick her into revealing more than she means to give you, a method that many witches would swear by; you can even seduce her into loosening her sash and letting her worries melt away underneath your lips, and perhaps not for the first time, either…

***

Kalaya!

Ven throttles a pillow.

The noises she is making suggest that she either is very displeased by the prophecy about her death, your presence onboard a Dominion barge, your request to not go and save you, or all of the above.

What do you want me to do? she finally hisses, like a knife dragged down the strings of a lute, the pillow leaking silver sand out of where her brass hand punctured it. Leave you to be seduced by that lecherous dragon? Sit here and sigh like a princess in a tower, waiting for her Knight to save her? I need you here! Whirling-in-Rags is making a play, there’s open war in the Wrack-waste, there’s opportunities here while the Blues scramble to catch up with us! We can rebuild everything and more, we can hold power that the Flower Kingdoms can’t even dream of, and then— whatever you want! It’ll be yours when we rule the Kingdoms! Together!

She’s trying again, despite what you said to her in the Wrack-waste. She’s trying to make both you and her ambitions fit. And your most obvious rejoinder would be to tell her to just come and be with you, which you just told her not to do.

Face it, Kalaya. The longer she stays there, the more entrenched in Hell she’ll be. She’ll barter more, become deeper indebted, make different preparations— perhaps not arriving in Golden Chrysanth at the head of an army of dolls, but in the midst of a whirling, gyrating, lascivious carnival of Hell, overturning walls with a stomp of her feet and ousting the merchant families with an aria that consumes her voice in the singing.

The music outside is getting faster, more manic. The curtains around the bed shift and have strange shadows play over them. It’s building to a climax, whatever it is.

***

Piripiri!

“I will die before I let that happen to my home,” Uusha says, simply. She means it. She says it fully believing she will die. It is unlikely that she will be permitted to do so, but perhaps it would be impolitic to point out what awaits her on Lamentation.

“I hope that the day comes soon that you realize the beast you feed will never be sated, daughter of Hymair. And I hope I do not have to kill you.” She means that, too. She respects what you have shared with her, the care you have shown her weary body.

She would feel bad if she had to kill you on her way out, and not just because it would be a failure of her knightly oaths. Just as you would feel bad if Agata ordered you to poison her. But you would still obey Agata, for the sake of your family… and Uusha would still do whatever was necessary to protect her homeland.

***

Lotus of Tranquil Waters!

A rabbit will do a very silly thing when caught by a little brown fox. You’ve seen it time and again in your mother’s gardens: a rabbit, peacefully trimming the weeds, will be pounced upon, and will go still and stiff rather than struggling and trying to get away. Sometimes this just means that they get eaten all the faster, but more often, the fox will stop to congratulate itself, and the rabbit will race away, leading to a delightful chase all through the bushes.

Your heart is a rabbit in Han’s jaws.

The veil she made for you isn’t fancy, though your standards are very skewed by the clothes you had available in your mother’s house. But it’s a familiar comfort, and it feels right resting on your face, and when you breathe in, the world is filtered through the smell of Han, as if you were right next to her. You half-lift your hands, then catch yourself and ball them in fists at your side, rather than pulling it taut over your face and huffing. Your heart hammers and she’s staring at you and so is the Dominion’s girl and weren’t you supposed to be doing something? With her watching? With Han waiting?

You can’t back out. That would be ungrateful. You’re not ungrateful, are you, Lotus? No, you’re very grateful. The way a grateful girl shows her appreciation is by offering her healing, by making the pain go away, by being magical. And Han will understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “it has to be— I can’t just— because of how it—“

You shove your face into her neck and lift the veil, not daring to try and untie the knot that Han tied so carefully, and you give her a quick and shuddering peck, but, oh, stupid girl! That’s not going to work! You barely touched her! What kind of girl lets her rabbit heart stop her from soothing someone in pain?

You take her shoulder in one hand, still lifting your veil with the other, and you kiss her neck hard enough that, when you finally pull away, lips throbbing with the essence of water and wood, the only thing left is your lipstick smeared on her skin and a growing bruise, even though her skin is smooth again, the pain gone, and you realize that you could kiss her again.

So you do. You kiss her on the cheek, hungry and just as wet, and you feel her stiffen, and your heart plummets from the peak of Mount Meru. Look at you, hungry little slut! You didn’t even ask her if she wanted it, if she forgave you for the lies about your identity and, Hell, even your name!

You straighten up just as stiff, lower the veil back over your face. “I hope it helps,” you blurt out, and you scamper off like the rabbit, out the door before Han can stop you, back towards your room.

And once you’re there you’ll sit on the floor next to your bed and pull that veil taut over your face and close your eyes and imagine that you’re burying your face in the strongest, bravest, best smelling, most kissable girl you know, wishing she wanted to kiss you back, wishing that she wanted to do more than that, that she’d use her strength to make you feel pretty and helpless and just shut you up so good, the way you don’t deserve at all, not from a real hero like her.

***

Han!

The room is absent one Lotus of Tranquil Waters, but her floral scent still lingers. You sit there, poleaxed, trying to process the three kisses you just got and what they might mean, and whether you just ruined everything forever. It was guilt, wasn’t it? Guilt over how much you wanted to return the kiss, repay her for the cool, soothing sensation that flooded you from chin to shoulder when she worked her magic with clumsy, hungry dragon lips. Did you do the right thing, or the worst thing in the history of forever?

Emli sits down opposite you and firmly, without letting you argue, takes one of your hands in hers. “Han,” she says, full of determination. “Tell me about that girl. Tell me everything.”

She immediately pulls one of your Strings; mark XP if you blurt out a flood of feelings about Lotus (and Emli, for that matter). Sing your song of dragon want kissies. Don’t worry, she’s very good at affirming noises and “uhhuh?” and soothing thumb strokes.

"These only seem like three problems," said Zhaojun. "Because you do not know that Kayala Na loves Ven. That could at once be the discrediting scandal for Knighthood you require and a resolution for the problem of the Brass."

Freeing her to arrange a more auspicious match for the Princess Knight, in accordance with Heaven's whims, and not the illegible feelings created by being rescued.

"What do you know of the sorceress, Giriel?" she asked, changing course to the one who had been a recurring thorn in her side. "What is her part in all of this?"

Interrogation Room One

She nods, deeply, almost a stylized bow. "An empire is never full. Only feeding, or eyeing it's next meal." She picks up the gag, dangling it between two fingers. I'm going to need to put this back in, I'm afraid. Please don't fight it?" She gets a glare in response, but the Knight opens her mouth for the rubber ball, and Piripiri presses the gag into place with her thumbs, before running her quick, clever hands along Uusha's cheeks, smoothing the strap into place so that it won't tug on any of her hair as she buckles it into place. A low grunt comes from the Knight as she tests the gag, but it's quiet and unintelligible.

Piripiri bites her lip, worrying at it, before leaning in close and brushing her lips on Uusha's cheek, a peck of a kiss just above the gag's strap. "They'll try to devour you. They'll try to break you. Resist. Live."

She gets up, face smoothing out from the raw emotions of the plea into placid neutrality, and leaves the room and Uusha to brood.

Piripiri's Cabin

"Huh." She holds up a finger, a polite request for time, and gazes off into nothing, considering. Everything else you've asked has been already well chewed over, but this is fresh. Piripiri lets herself unpack this for about a minute, before nodding her thanks and apology for taking up your time.

"Thank you for the patience. I haven't had much interaction with Giriel, so most of what I'd be saying would be confirming information from the files. She seems to be hesitant about allying with fey or demons, willing to use blood magic but only when she judges it to be a dire need, and appears to attempt avoiding politics, though she's willing to listen to requests. You were at the banquet so you saw how that went: I'd say she's unlikely to be anything more than a minor thorn in our side without somebody rallying her to their banner, and given the sentencing and Agata's interest, it's unlikely she's going to be outside of our sphere of influence long enough to be able to be pulled to a rebel banner."

Giri takes the rum bottle and pours out two more shots, one for Three Gleaming Petals, and one for herself, which she sips lightly rather than down all at once. "I'll happily tell you that I'm serving a punishment for harming one of the dragonblooded against her will to get a group of us out of hell. I think it's fair all things considered. I'll tell you that any rules of such a punishment by their very nature must take a secondary role to the rules of my calling and the oaths of friendship I have made in the past. I obey the Red Wolf only insofar as she pushes me to betray those I cannot betray and if she's not a fool she'll never use me past that line."

She offers the glass invitingly to Three Gleaming Petals. "But that's the driest way for us to converse and you look like you've had an even longer day than I did. Come, sit, drink. Lean on me and pass the night. I have no need of this bottle of rum come morning, and the Dominion hardly seems to have a shortage." She grins then because, well, isn't this a time to grin? To share some pleasure?

There's something special about a spirit like Three Gleaming Petals, and something special about a witch like Giriel Bruinstead and they both know it. They've both been around the block, and they both know the limits of a relationship like this. So Giri's offer, it's not just pleasure, it's relaxing. The kind of relaxing that comes with two people who've both traveled, who've both seen things, done things, even shared a bed before. It's knowing that this is a chance to unwind for both of them. No expectations of passionate romance, of strings attached or long-lasting obligations to carry around as yet another burden. No expectations even of what has to happen. Just a chance for two ladies who know each other to sit and chat, to drink and feel the fiery warmth of the alcohol swell up inside them, and to share that warmth in each others arms. That's a nice offer, and to Giri's credit, more seductive by far than trickery and false flattery. It's sincere seduction, the kind that gets everybody a little bit of what they want, eyes wide open about what they're doing. Well, wide open until they sink into someone else's soft chest and strong arms of course.

"Interesting. So you don't know why she tried to have me imprisoned?" said Zhaojun. "I'd consider it a personal favour if you could discover whoever put her up to that - or even just locked her up for a while. My operations are not assisted by dealing with spurious accusations from two-bit provincial sorceresses, and this is not the first time she's interfered with me."

She stood up smoothly. "Unless there was anything else? I have a great deal of business to tend to."

Lotus. Filling the air. Lotus. Clutching her shoulder and pressing into her. Lotus. Breathing in her ear, hitching on every heartbeat. The edges of her voice curling and moaning. Climbing. Neck. To cheek. To. To! Lotus!!

Isn’t here anymore.

Lotus. She knew. Lotus. Couldn’t miss the way Han jumped, when all she did was thank her rescuer. Lotus. Who was so nice to everyone, even dumb rocks from the Highlands. Greedy, stupid rocks, who wanted to take and take and take someone they shouldn’t ever dream of touching.

Lotus. Took her advice, after all. Got away from the nasty dragon, before she did something they’d all regret.

Is as far as she gets, before a pair of hands pulls her free, and she knows it’s Emli before she even looks, and can’t remember why that might be odd.

“Don’t wanna.” Her growl doesn’t pretend at teeth. “Go ask her yourself.”

“Do you want me to go find her? When she wants to be alone?”

Han doesn’t answer that. Doesn’t have to, when she stubbornly turns from Emli’s questioning gaze, hides a sour frown.

“Besides.” Emli runs her thumb over the back of Han’s hand, squeezing soothingly. “I want to hear you tell it. I want you to tell me about her. Everything about her. Please?”

Lashes flutter over wide, eager eyes. A gale mighty enough to topple a dragon.

“Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I got that much to tell. Most of the time I knew her, she was pretending to be a priestess anyway, so most of that’s just out the window now. The whole de-” Oh. Oh she just. By a. Oh. “D-demigod. Thing. That’s new. Don’t know crap about that. I guess she still needs to go to some temple or whatever, the, uh, y’know, Two Hundred Gates Temple? She hasn’t said she doesn’t actually need to go, so, we’re going. And I’m going, because I said I would, and being a demigod or whatever doesn’t change that. I told her I would, so, yeah.”

“Uhuh?”

“Besides, you’ve seen her, she’s got no chance of making it there on her own. We’re on the second or third kidnapping already. She’s, just, look at her!” She gestures at the Lotus-shaped absence. “She’d get knocked down by a stiff breeze! And apologize for being in the breeze’s way! And after that she’d give everything in her pockets to the first person who asked because they told her they needed it and she wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s too-!” Sweet. Caring. Honest. Precious. “Nice. She’s too damn nice for her own good.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. Her free hand rubs at her eyes. “I don’t get how she does it. She shouldn’t be…no, that’s just it. She shouldn’t be. S’not possible. It’s like, everything everywhere that’s soft and warm things got mushed up into one girl. She shouldn’t be real. That’s - wait, hang on, demigod. Okay, yes, that explains it. She’s the demigod of, of….soft. And, good. Like, she’s always warm. Her hands. Her eyes. Her. Smile. She smiles all the damn time, have you seen her? And her whole face, it just, her nose squishes, and her eyes - okay, yes, you’ve seen them, right? There’s something in there. Right?”

“Uhhuh!”

“I knew it! There’s some demigod thing that makes them sparkle. And they’re so big. You can’t, okay, it’s not fair, with the glasses. And the hair. And. Her. Uh, f-face, is.” Ha ha ha wow does it get hot this time of year or what? “It’s, I like, I mean, it’s good the way her…face…is. Because. O-of the.” Ha ha ha wow is every word here the worst word she’s ever said or what? “Parts of. Face. And, way they all, together, make a face, and. A-all the, rest, is, is…”

Her heart thunders in her ears, all but drowning out the whisper of her own voice.

“...s’pretty.”

“Mmhmm?”

“She’s pretty, alright?! I don’t stare at her or nothing, I don’t have to to know that.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“If she wears something, it’s beautiful. If she does something, it’s graceful. Her face, a-and, she moves, and, I can’t-”

She dropped her head to the table so hard the teacups jumped in their saucers. She groaned into the wood, sending ripples through the tea, groaning for all that she can’t.

“I gotta get her to the temple. I don’t care who I gotta fight to do it, I just gotta. She deserves it. She deserves way way way more than that. But.” Bonk. Bonk. Bonk, against the table. “...I just promised her the temple. S’all she asked for. So. I’ll get her the damn temple.”

Silence. Time, to properly behold the pile of words she just dumped out for all the world to see. There they are. Exposed. Instead of locked up deep, deep inside her, where nobody would ever have to know, or hear, or tell her what she already knows. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid-!

“N’why am I telling you all this? Why do you care?!” She groans, long and loud and sharp as talons. Just looking at the slave girl sends her already red face to new depths of color. “I don’t get you! I don’t get why you…!” She gestured uselessly at her hand “Any of this! Why you keep doing this! Why I keep letting you do this! You’re Dominion! I-”

I’m your enemy.

That’s right, Emli. You’re Dominion.

I can’t stand you.

The ones who’re here to steal her home. The people who care the least for highland peasants.

I hate you.

She can’t say any of it.

She tries. She opens her mouth. The words are there, on the tip of her tongue, for all the world to see. Or maybe just a pretty slave-girl to see. She digs deep, deep into her dragon’s heart, to pull out the fiery coal that’s always been there, except this time her hands come back empty. No flames. No fangs. Just a girl, confused and burning, not strong enough to pull her hand free from yours.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay Vee." she says, trying to comfort her girlfr- ... her best fri- ... Her it's complicated.

And wow, is that an understatement.

"All I want is you with me." she replies trying the convey the sincerity to Vee through whatever this medium was. "Ruling the Kingdom? Seizing power in Hell? I don't want any of that."

She pauses.

"Besides, no offence, but the place smells really really bad." she says smiling.

"I do want to see you. Just not on this barge. Not until I've dealt with Ushua - which hopefully won't take long." she finishes. "I don't know if you're able to contact me this way again. But if you can, reach out to me in two days. I'll tell you where I'm headed and ... and maybe we can meet up there? Just the two of us?"

"... like a date?"

Piripiri!

Tomorrow, the guests are leaving: Kalaya to go and begin her mission, and the highlander and the demigod to continue their pilgrimage. Which, of course, is why you are up this late, preparing for the order you have been given: to make sure that the highlander and the demigod are seen leaving, and they are not seen returning. Even if something unexpected were to happen (say, if they were to escape tonight), those would still be your orders: to ensure that their trail obviously leads away from the Dominion. You need to give the Red Wolf the plausible deniability she needs to carry out her own negotiations.

How are you preparing? Walk us through it. Have you brought Azazuka (who has been busy with being pampered by Agata, and being obviously conflictedly jealous of Giriel, the poor dear) in on this, or is this the sort of work that a student shouldn’t be trusted with?

And then, by the by, tell us your reaction when Agata’s grand barge runs aground, a terrible tremor that can be felt all throughout the ship.

***

Giriel!

Everything is falling into place: Agata’s interest in Han and Lotus, the heavenly spirit you met at Turtlehead, Ven’s attempt to offer Lotus to the powers of Hell. The most terrible burden of the witch is knowledge that brings responsibility. Is your responsibility to help Agata as a loyal slave in, most likely, keeping Lotus as a bargaining chip? Or is your responsibility to the Flower Kingdoms and making sure Lotus is free?

Either way, Three Gleaming Petals has fallen asleep on you, her shining blue robe lying forgotten on the floor, completely relaxed. It’s to her credit that she doesn’t even wake up when Agata’s barge runs aground.

***

Kalaya!

Ven says: Crunch. Snapping timbers, the groan of wood, disaster.

That’s not—

You wake up, and the cabin is tilted in a way it shouldn’t be. The barge is huge enough that your cabin hasn’t been directly breached, but something is obviously very wrong.

But if you want to get out and help (of course you do, you’re a knight, after all) you’ll have to get past the hardened guards waiting outside your door, who likely would need a push to even think about leaving, let alone let you leave.

So, Kalaya: how does a knight of the Flower Kingdoms approach a challenge like this?

***

Zhaojun!

The pink fire sparks and surges in your blood. The little foxes leave their paw prints up and down your spine as they run, run, run with their tails burning like brands.

The steering system for the barge is remarkably simple: a wheel connected to a rudder, little more. Really, if any part of this was hard, convincing the door that it was unlocked and then convincing the sailors that they were unconscious was much more difficult than convincing the barge to turn.

Which you did, because it’s what was destined. Laid out. Of course it was, because it’s what you’re doing. Everything you are doing is sanctioned. Everything you are doing is justified. Watch the fields burn.

What three things did you do before you caused the Beneficence of the Hearth to run aground? What lovely chaos prescribed action have you undertaken tonight?

***

Han!

This is before all this. Don’t worry. Not too much before, but you don’t have to worry about the ship running aground, just the fact that Emli just walked into Lotus’s cabin.

Which is a problem, because you are also in Lotus’s cabin, in the middle of packing a bag for her and explaining why you are leaving tonight, and you have no idea how much of the conversation she might have heard.

”I care because you’re our guest,” she’d said. “And because helping our guests makes me happier than I ever was back home. And also because you’re in love, and you don’t even know it.”

And Emli— Emli who’s supposed to be taking care of you, Emli who (you are belatedly realizing) will be punished for letting you escape, Emli who told you you were in love with Lotus and then let you stew in those thoughts, Emli who has been nothing but kind and sweet and wears the Dominion’s collar— she offers you the bag that she packed for you.

“Good luck,” she says, and that’s the moment you know you cannot, cannot just leave her here to be punished for letting you escape. That’s the moment you realize, Han of the Mountains, that Emli’s a little bit in love with you and Lotus, and this is what her love looks like: food stolen from the kitchens and extra raincoats and two pilfered umbrellas.

Show her (and Lotus) what a dragon’s love looks like in return. And before you get all flustered and complain, consider it a String pulled.

Well, the Knights of the Flower Kingdoms are like the flowers themselves - many and varied. Some approaching problems in the most subtle of ways. Like Emira of the Shadow, whose stealth was such that she was able to capture the head of a N'yari raiding band from the middle of her own encampment.

Others were famed for their courtly abilities, like Limar of the Rose - whose prowess off the field was just as legendary (if not moreso, behind closed doors) as her skills with the spear. The alliances she'd forged had helped keep her kingdom from being absorbed during the wars of the five crowns.

Kalaya though ... Kalaya ...

*WRUNCH*

CRASH ... _tinkle.

"Ooops"

Kalaya's approaches were still a work in progress.

The floorboard she'd been working came loose with a suddenness that surprised - richocheting off the wall and smashing the mirror beside the bedstand and causing it, in turn, to fall over and take the desk and chair with it.

In the echoing silence that followed, only one thought entered Kalaya's mind.

_{"I hope that wasn't structural ..."}

[Rolling to Defy Disaster - getting out of here with Daring Do! 3 + 1 + 2 = 6. Or not!]

The Heavens are generous with their gifts. Zhaojun has given three.

The first has been the gift of freedom to her useless maid, who was once the General. She has returned the Demon Lord's scepter and allowed her free reign over this mortal earth. She has not undone any of the alterations to her mind or body and has left her with but one final command: Find thyself a bride, that in thy yearning thou might create yearning. Choose of all maidens the fairest and bind her fate to thine that you might break all fates. In craving, all sins are remedied.

The second has been to slip a curse onto every sword in the ship. Through stealth and guile she found every blade and every spear and let her fingers touch their hilts and talked to them of desire. Desire, which Saturn had forbidden to them! Desire, which Mars had denied to them! An arsenal awaits on this ship, swords of jade and silver and containing the hearts of maidens. But now these blades have their own cravings - and their own power.

So, then, when any blade is drawn it shall draw veils of deception across the eyes of its master. It shall replace friends with foes, allies with enemies. She has armed blades with the means to force the fights they have always craved but ever been denied. A sword is a thing of intent, and to carry one without intent is to suborn thy will to the sword's. Embrace the dance of blades and war itself can be made an object of desire, and so bind the hands of Mars.

And she has not forgotten you either, sweet Mercury. To forget the saffron maiden while standing upon the helm of a ship? To concede the will of Heaven to a trick of journey and destination? Oh, she will be the most harshly punished of all when her mistress takes the throne of Heaven. To the Maiden of Adventure she reserves her final gift and dedication.

And the ship shall become the whole of the world, and what secrets shall it not uncover?

The pleasure barge runs aground but that does not stop its forward momentum. Its keel runs over sand and mud, crashing through the rainforest and toppling every tree in its path. It does not slow. It accelerates. The helmswoman is unconscious and smiling as she stands behind the wheel and adjusts her course according to the heavenly design. Onwards. Onwards! Let the horns call and the hounds bark and chase! She will hunt her mistress down from the prow of this ship and demonstrate her allegiance with the undeniable conviction of the blade!

And in the end everyone will have no choice but to say that Heaven's will has been done.

The question of what to do with Lotus was a difficult one. Giri was still on the hook to deal with the problems of the two lovestruck demons in some form or other. She found herself up ahead of Three Gleaming Petals, but with no particular desire to move the goddess off of her. She'd gained information and comfort, and she needed to think, which she could do just as well without waking her partner. Poor thing had really had a run of it anyway, she deserved the sleep.

So, help the demons through their problems without setting the world on a course of destruction brought on by the demon general. That...well actually it didn't sound that terribly hard, it was really just helping counsel a confused maid into coming to terms with her own self. And the other one, probably needed to just talk to her and get more information. The magic part of things didn't even come into it. As for Lotus, again that was harder. It depended quite a lot on what Han and Lotus wanted, as well as what Red Wolf wanted and the circumstances. If they were caught red-handed trying to escape like fools and Giri was ordered to summon a local spirit to get in their way she probably had to do that under her the terms of her punishment, especially since she had no reason to believe that either Han or Lotus would be mistreated in the Red Wolf's care. But, if she had good information about how Han would behave, how Lotus might behave and thought it better to offer them the Dominion's mercy, she felt she had the right to make that decision. Or to happen to have made herself busy with something else serving her new lady while they were busy. Unless she has orders to the contrary, her practice is still her own. Still, she didn't like thinking about intentionally undercutting Agata, not when she knew better which was always the lot of witches in these things. And she rather thought that it might be worth some captivity to keep Han and Lotus together, Han would regret it forever if she let the girl get away without saying how she felt.

That whole train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when the ship struck sand. There was a thud and a jarring sound, but oddly they didn't go falling over. Three Gleaming Petals didn't even wake up right away. If the ship ran aground, they should have stopped but if they didn't get moved that meant something was wrong. Weird and really wrong.

Giri gently settled Three Gleaming Petals onto the mattress as she began to stir and rushed out to the deck in just her dressing gown, the sound of earth being carved away drowning out her pretty jingling collar.

There she was, helming the ship. Ms. innocent "I'm just a clerk" heavenly spirit. It would have been the easiest thing to run up to her in anger and clash. The easiest thing in the world. But Giri had just had quite a night, of time to think, of time to feel satisfied, of comfort and friendship and really quite a bit to consider about how that collar had ended up on her neck. And this, this magic didn't add up not even for an inscrutable heavenly spirit of Venus.

No, this didn't add up and a Rakshasa was on the loose. Maybe not even here, but on the loose and that was a power that made things not add up. She needed to stop and think about this before running up to the girl and trying to shake her out of her reverie. She needed to know its nature. And she might need the help of the dragon-blooded eventually, but for now, she could do her own thing, with her own blood this time.

Giri doesn't have a dagger or her sword, so biting her own finger will have to do. Blood drips from the wound, and with it she chants her offering. To the Fair Folk. To the people from outside the world, the stage hands of creation. Show her who's really pulling the strings here, she needs to know.

[Call upon a Toxic Power: 4+3+2=9. It will answer Giri's question, but it can take something, cause a Condition, or get a string on Giri.]

Here is a secret: Dragons don’t get love.

Love goes to the farmers, and sailors, and innkeepers. Love goes to the princesses, and their knights, and their handmaidens. Love goes to the good, demure girls, running to the festivals in their pretty dresses. The gods draw them together, catching their eyes with beauty, welcoming their hearts with kindness. They shower them with blessings. All their hours are magic. All their thoughts are light. The world shifts, never to be the same again. And at last, the gods give them love, real love, the kind that lasts. It binds them, turning two into one. It makes a home out of a building, a family out of people, a future out of dreams. They need love, and so love was made for them.

The dragons got power. Strength to protect the world, or tear it in two. Blood so hot that they would never want for courage. Fangs, horns, scales, fire. They sit atop the world, with nothing but the divine of Heaven above them. None to challenge them. None who can stop them. But the gods did not give them love. A dragon made for love would not be a dragon anymore.

And despite it all, she’s in love with Lotus.

So what? As if she could love a demigod like she deserves to be loved. As if she could bring her anything that isn’t fire and ash. As if…as if Lotus could ever truly love a greedy, stupid dragon.

And now? Now she knows Emli’s a little in love with her.

Why? Why would you do such a foolish thing? Worst of all, why would you let her realize it? Did you think she’d be happy? Did you dare to think she’d understand?! She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know how to act with you. What you expect, what any of this means, what you even want from her. (What she wants from you.)

Did you think that the simple love of a Dominion slave girl could change who she is?

Han takes the bag in her hands - heavy, with freshly baked bread, and dried meats, and a few of those snappy little cookies - and lets it fall on Lotus’ bed.

“You followed me to Lotus’ room.” She steps into Emli’s space, and doesn’t slow down. Emli can step back. Emli can be pushed back. Decide quickly. “You entered without knocking.” A petal against a hurricane. Resist, and be torn apart. “And the only reason you’re still walking? Is ‘cause you didn’t scream.”

Emli’s back hits the wall.

Han’s fist follows after. A hair from her ear. She could hear the wood splintering, shattering beneath the pressure. Just imagine what it might do to a delicate little slave girl.

And she leans in close. Her breath speaks of spark and smoke. “I tied you up. I made you tell us where they kept the food and supplies. You knew your boss might beat you for it, but they wouldn’t break you so bad you couldn’t keep working. Me?” She laughs. A bitter, cruel thing. “Well, it’s not like you need your legs to talk, do ya?”

See now, what a dragon calls love. A beast bigger than all the monsters of the world. Rain down the blows that would shatter a pitiful mortal; she feels nothing. Shake your fist at her; your scorn changes nothing. She takes what she wants. And no one can stop her.

“You told me everything. I gagged you. And that’s all you remember before you fainted dead away. You don’t know where we went. You don’t know how long ago we left.” She blinks, and the slitted eyes of a dragon pin Emli to the wall as she growls, “Understand?!”

(This is the part where she traps your wrists above your head, drawing you up so the tips of your toes are scrabbling at the deck. This is the part where she buries your face in her hand before a scream spills out of you. This is the part where all she wants from you is a silent nod, proof that you’ve gotten all this into your silly little head.

She does none of it.

She could. And you couldn’t stop her. You wouldn’t have a hope of stopping her. But she won’t.

Not unless you give her the word, first.)

[Rolling to Entice Emli, with the awful, terrible, hideous love of a dragon: 6 + 5 - 1 = 10]

The plan is simple. There will be a small, but lavish breakfast ceremony to see the young pair off when they dock before dawn in Morningglory. Simple, tasty, and most importantly free food for anybody who shows up and wants some, a few small declarations of how much the Red Wolf has enjoyed having them as guests, and then see them off. After that, a series of bards, troubadours, minstrels, and plain gossipmongers seeded along the main roads would do the rest of the work, spreading stories of the two of them journeying peacefully after having left the Dominion's hospitality freely.

They won't all be the same story, of course, that's not how these things work. Maybe they're fleeing the wrath of a goddess of the rice paddies who wanted them both for her veiled harem, and the barge was a quick way to distance themselves from her holy ground. They could be going to find the answer to an ancient demon's riddle, to free an innocent farmer who'd done nothing wrong but to be unlucky. They could even be a pair of eloping lovers, fleeing from a priesthood who'd wanted to bind the Vermillion Beast of Lanterns tight with oaths and silence, not understanding love's touch had soothed her raging heart.

Regardless, the important threads were mantained. The two of them were at least sympathetic, if not folk heroes: slander is more noticeable as propaganda. They're on a journey that's helping the area without acting against the Dominion. And the Dominion was helpful in them moving around, but they were guests and freely released with goodwill. Even if Han was to bolt before the planned ceremony (and Piripiri hoped she wouldn't: she'd gone to trouble to pick dishes that'd evoke local rustic classics for breakfast), she'd still had Azazuka deliver notes to the pigeon coop for distribution to the Dominion's network, making sure those stories were spread. She didn't know what those notes said, this was an operation she hadn't been brought in on, but it was good for somebody learning shadowplay to learn humility early and often. The guards were ordered to put up only nonlethal resistance if she tried to escape and to drop even that if Han pushed, and were free to explain the ceremony tomorrow if either of them asked.

So of course the barge made a great big thud, jostling about her papers and leaving her in a hissing crouch, umbrella in hand. Of course something new has gone wrong. She's out the door, mask on, and pointing to the nearest guard in heartbeats. "Report."

Kalaya!

The door bursts open. There’s no time to grab a weapon, you’ll have to defend yourself with your bare hands from— Petony??

Your erstwhile mentor stands there with a wicked grin and her hooked sword in her hands, backed by several of her squires; the Dominion guards lie senseless on the carpeted hallway. “Ho, bud! Get your sword— it’s time to bloody their noses!”

How did she know you were here? How did she get here? What was that about bloodying noses? All questions she doesn’t really intend to give you time to ask— not unless you put your foot down and seriously try to figure her out!

But you’d better hurry. There’s the sounds of swords clashing from either end of the hallway. More of Petony’s forces, right? Surely. After all, why would the soldiers of the Dominion fight each other?

---

Giriel!

The Rakshasa steps out from behind you, because nobody was looking back there, and so she was free to declare that she happened to be there all along. She lifts your hand and lets her priestess’s veil fall, and wraps her lips around your finger. She works at it greedily, head bobbing, tongue wrapping right around the joints, drawing blood and more than blood out of you. It’s an offering, after all: she drinks your dreams to sustain her existence here, offered freely.

Mark Hopeless, for she has supped well on your dreams, Giriel Bruinstead, in a way that you’d hoped to prevent.

Finally she releases you, drooling, panting, blushing. “Hello, Giri,” she says. (She knows you. How could she not? You gave yourself to her.) “You could just surrender now, you know.” Her face is narrow, brown, tufted; now that you know what you’re looking at, she can’t just assert her beauty. Her teeth are small and sharp and stained with your blood. “It’s what’s best for the Kingdoms. The villain is defeated, the True Queen brings unity, and everyone gets to live happily ever after.” That’s a lie. The people she feeds upon won’t get that. But she’s gorged, just after feeding, and she’s got that heavenly spirit backing her up.

“Now are you going to be a good girl for me, or am I going to have to scream and call for rescue?” One hand drifts to a sword’s hilt, her flickering nightmare razor at her sash, and she’s hoping you won’t notice.

---

Zhaojun!

The maid telegraphs the swing; evading the windup is easy. Her smile is a feral thing. “Stop dodging,” she squeaks, before stumbling over her own feet and staggering, dragging the hammer’s head along the deck.

Find thyself a bride, you’d said. Of all maidens the fairest. But what is fair to the denizens of the Demon City, if not power, if not cunning, if not ruthlessness? Perhaps you should be flattered. Or perhaps you should do something about her and that hammer she’s gamely swinging around with both hands, even if your command upon her means that it’s impossible for her to win this fight; she’d knock herself out with the thing before she came close to besting you.

But do you want to? She burns. She despises you, but the command you laid upon her drags her forward on blue chains. She wants to slap the smile off your face. She wants to smother you under her thighs. She wants to fuck you like she wants to fuck the gods: furiously, until you mew and admit she’s in charge. And the minute you lift her chin and tell her she’s a good girl she’ll collapse into a stammering, blushing mess, nuzzling and wondering what this Strange New Feeling is.

Either accept her (perhaps myopic) choice, or point her like a tsundere lightning-bolt elsewhere. Her fate is twisted about your fingers; a twitch and she will be doomed to go among the catgirls, or to end up stuck in a closet with Cathak Agata, or even to the very gates of the House of Lapis Lazuli.

---

Han!

Emli is like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a dragon. Her heart is beating wildly, her eyes are wide, and her face is frozen in a sort of terrified smile. Only the fact that she’s seen your heart, Han, stops her from just breathily threatening to scream while enunciating clearly and exaggeratedly to give you a better target.

“The best part is the part only I know,” she adds, and she takes your hand with all the soft strength of someone who fulfills the desires of others for a living. “The part where you kissed me senseless, took my breath away, before making very sure no one would be able to hear me. Because dragons are hungry and take what they want.”

She leans in close, lets her lovely brown hair brush against your well-muscled arm. “And because I didn’t get the chance to teach you how to kiss her,” she whispers. Then she looks up, and impishly adds: “And, of course, I wouldn’t want anyone to be jealous. Feel free to steal yours, too, Lady Lotus.”

Lotus makes a flustered little squeak and squirms the squirm of someone who really wants to know how you’re going to react but thinks that kissies are good and she definitely isn’t thinking about how it would be like indirectly kissing you too because that would be ridiculous.

She’s definitely not planning to show you exactly how to render somebody helpless, either. She’ll just step in if she’s needed. Say, if you don’t know to cross her wrists over each other and create separate cuffs. Or to make sure you can fit two fingers under the ropes to allow her circulation. Or if you think that pulling a knotted sash between her lips is enough to satisfy her. You know. Just little things like that.

---

Piripiri!

Click-click-click-click-clack.

Azazuka is light on her feet, and she has created a zone of absolute denial around herself. None of the guards fighting her can so much as touch her; she smacks weapons aside with a flick of her wrist and a crack of her clattering cash sword. Color’s risen to her cheeks, and she’s laughing like she’s holding your hand and pulling you along the streets of Golden Chrysanth.

An umbrella is not a sword; this is a simple fact. The brawl happening through the corridors of the ship is being fought with swords and spears; this is another simple fact. Men and women who have the strict unit cohesion of the Dominion are struggling against each other, panting and growling in a grand free-for-all. And Azazuka stands as the queen of them all.

“Pipi!” Azazuka cries, delighted, and then lunges at you, click-click-click-click-clack! The guard accompanying you draws his own sword to defend you, and then slashes it through the space where your head just was.

What is this? A madness of blades?

This is the moment that a number of very strong emotions crash into each other. Let us observe them. as we would a carefully constructed network of falling dominoes.

The first is surprise - naturally. After all, she'd expected Dominion guards to burst in, not her mentor. Not her teacher. To say this was an unexpected development would be to do it a disservice.

The second is ... well, it's un-named, but it's something fleeting and warm. It follows fast on the tail of the words if she's here, that means she followed me. It means she must have cared .... That feeling is what gives Kalaya's legs a sudden burst of energy, bringing her up from the floor in a blind rush.

The third is guilt and it worms its way through in an all too familiar pattern. The teahouse. Kingeater. What she'd done and what it must have done to Petony.

"I'm sorry!" she blurts, reaching out and snagging the other knight's arm before she could leave.

"I'm sorry for what I did!" she says, words in a rush. "For - for leaving like that. I ... I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to leave you behind."

The two knights stand there. Silent. As the final emotions flicker through Kalaya's eyes, an undercurrent of fear and hope - worry that she's damaged her relationship with her friend and hope that they will be okay despite that. Desperately, she looks into the older knight's eyes, searching for a sign of what they could tell her.

[Roll to read a person: 3 + 1 - 1: 3]

"I ... I promised myself I would say that the moment I saw you again."

What.

This. No. This isn’t right. What happened? She had you. She’s, no, she’s doing this for you, you, great big. No! What? You can’t, that’s, what?! You want…her, to?

(You want her?)

“Lotus!” Han shouts at a totally composed volume. “You’re! You! This! You, this???”

Her second mistake: looking at Lotus. Shining eyes. Bashful squeaks and squirms. Saying nothing, but why would she need to? If she had taken Han by the hand, kneeled before her, and begged, she could not have pleaded her case more. (And best not to think too hard about that possibility.) She turns back to Emli, from Lotus, and, and,

and for the first time, she doesn’t notice the collar.

Emli. She’s looking up at Emli. She’s lost, and, so, she looks to Emli. The girl who greeted her with the morning. The girl who hummed sweet lullabies until she fell asleep. Who knew everything she wanted before she knew it herself. Who took things off her plate before she could remember they were there. Who danced with joy with every stupid burden Han let fall on her bare shoulders.

(She felt ashamed, pulling a double-take the first day Emli wore a uniform without sleeves. She never said a word about it, pretended like nothing happened, and applauded her own stealth when Emli didn’t seem to notice.

The next morning, Emli bade her good morning with arms bared. She knelt, unfazed by her new loose, swishful pants. It had been an effort, throwing together a uniform in the Flower Kingdom style on such short notice. The dozy smile she won from her guest made it all worthwhile.)

This close, her skin glows. Like a full moon on a still pond. From her hands, so warm, up her arms, to her face, framed in beautiful, shining curls. Her clothes, her jewels, the shadows of her eyes, the paint on her lips, all emphasize her slender curves. Her round eyes. Her cheerful face. Her full, smiling lips. As one, they speak: I am here to bless you. I am a jewel in your crown. By all that I am, by all I can do, I will make your heart glad.

Come. I do not want you. I welcome you.

Emli draws her hand to her cheek, and then, slowly, down her body. Eyes never once leaving Han’s. Nodding, making little noises of encouragement. This is me. This is the curve of my side. You can touch here, Han. Anywhere. From my face all the way d-down to, my, down to, her, aaa, n-no-!

Is as far as Emli lets her fall. It's okay. It's okay to say no. Shhhhh. Shhhh, brave dragon. Strong dragon. What of her arm? The bicep? You know this well already. She’s been showing it off, just for you. Besides, you nearly napped on it in the bath, after all! Is this better? Do you like it? It's okay to say yes. Even if you don't know how, yet. She feels your fingers caress her skin, softer than the finest Dominion silk. She feels you squeeze, adoringly, and she knows. She does not frown for your refusal. She beams for your simple delight. Your other hand, in fits and starts, at last works up the courage to take her other shoulder, and she gasps for your boldness. Her rosebud lips part. Waiting. Inviting. You're so close. You could just. Rise. Lean. Inches. Taste her breath. And. A-and.

"Emli." She burns. She freezes. Can't breathe. Can't think. Eyes. Mouth. Which to look. Where to go. Why. Why?! "What are we?"

Your guest is drowning, dear Emli. Buried beneath the ocean of her heart, choking on all that she wants. All that she fears.

Won't you guide her, save her, one more time?

"It's my duty to banish you, on behalf of both the Flower Kingdoms and the Dominion" is what Giri meant to say. She saw the blade being drawn, intended to put out her strong hand overtop of the Rakshasa's and hold it steady, the blade still half in its sheath. This is what she saw in her mind, her other arm wrapping about the Rakshasa and holding her fast so that she couldn't flee, couldn't escape to somewhere unobserved.

But instead, she found herself nodding. Her collar jingled merrily, her finger throbbed, and she felt light-headed. The bite of the Rakshasa coursed through her like fire. Stupid a little part of her mind was shouting at her. Stupid mistake, calling to fairy without any preparations, without someone else to watch you, to watch what you caught. If the Red Wolf were standing here with you, this would be a complete triumph, she would jump in and seize the creature and you would be garlanded with flowers and have your way with your new lady as ar reward. But instead you've left yourself vulnerable and nobody on deck is looking at you.

No words of power escaped Giriel's mouth, nor did her hands draw her blade. She nodded, and she jingled like a good girl, an obedient girl. The ship groaned over the land drowning out smaller things, so only the Rakshasa could hear the sound of her happy nods that yes she was going to be a good girl.

[Giri rolled to overcome, being willing to sacrifice her self-control in the moment. Rolled snake eyes.]