Page 17 of The Space Between Stars

“Begging again, Toronoff. What do you have to say for yourself?” She stepped to the stone cooler and withdrew a bottle of cream. Several fingers’ worth spilled into a teacup on the floor. The animal padded forward to lap at it, chest rumbling. She ran her fingers through his fur, hoping it wouldn’t shed all over the floor. She would rather not have to sweep again.

“Don’t get used to these handouts,” she scolded. “They will not last.”

The kettle began to steam and she removed it from the stove, but left the fire burning to warm a date cake she’d kept stored in waxed linens. A wooden table with four chairs—a laughable thing, really, as there had never been more than the two of them—stood beneath the window. When she sat in one with teacup in hand, the cat hopped into her lap.

“You’re really working it, eah?” Her mouth pulled to one side. She was so bored she was talking to a cat.

She sipped at her cup. The aromatic liquid tasted of spice and bitters and sweetness all in one. She needed it. Ever since she’d seen Hashod—Chief Operator of Aethertech Mechanics—cavorting with Tera’thians, things had been tense… but at the same time, not tense enough. She had thought that when Thedexemore left, she would have a chance to deal with the previous month’s onslaught of troubles. But they had since fallen silent: no more highmoon lurkers, no more misplaced papers or shifted quills at her desk, no more assassination attempts.

No more visits from Roskaad Thyatira.

She sipped again, and her eyes darted to the bottle of wine on her shelf—the one he’d given her. It was her favorite. How he had known, she could only guess.

“Don’t drink the wine. Save it.”

Her body warmed in a way that had nothing to do with tea, and her teeth tucked into her lower lip. She had enjoyed working with him, as much as she’d tried not to. And then he’d promised her things no one else could. He’d been a generous lover—well, that was an understatement.

She stared at the wine. The wine stared back.

But there had been that marking on his chest. And the lie as to how he’d received it. One lie was all she needed to keep her hackles raised.

Attilatia sighed. She’d been looking forward to a relaxing night alone. Hadn’t she?

She looked around the empty room and felt, for a spine-shivering moment, like the empty might be catching.

She stood, setting the half-empty teacup onto a coaster. Toronoff mewed in protest but hopped from her lap and scurried dutifully to the door.

“Sorry,” she said earnestly, pulling the wine from its shelf. She grabbed her dark oculars from a hook. Time to face the rising sun.

An hour later, she found herself outside Pinto’s door. She’d communicated through light signals to the old silk-trader that she was coming, but never received a response. Probably because Pinto, like Thedexemore, understood the signaling contraption she’d built him in concept, but hadn’t bothered to learn the codes to fully make use of it.

She knocked, causing the dust from the molding to fan out and form a particulate crown atop her head. Her nose crinkled. Fates, did Pinto need a maid. She was sure he could afford one, the stingy bastard. Muted footsteps sounded behind the door and several deadbolts scraped in succession. The door opened a slit. Pinto’s smile cracked wide.

“Atti, Atti, I’d hoped that was you.” He spoke in their home tongue.

Attilatia’s lips twitched. It wasn’t a thing she often heard. A wrinkled hand reached through the opening and pulled her inside. The door closed, and Pinto swished behind her to relock the deadbolts.

“And you’re wearing the silks I gave you.” He walked in a circle around her. “Ah. Yes. Simply exquisite.”

Attilatia swatted him away. “You’re like a hyena, eah?”

He chortled and turned towards his cluttered yet extravagant sitting area. “Still worried I might want you for a snack?”

She blushed. “No. That’s—”

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t give you a good ribbing for it for the rest of your life?”

She couldn’t help smiling.

“What’s this? You brought wine? A little early, don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “Well. My day is at an end. But this is not for drinking.”

“No?” He raised a silver eyebrow.

“No. I want you to have it tested for poison. If I remember, your regular stackers partner is an alchemist. Let’s make use of that.”

Pinto clicked his tongue and sat on his favorite chaise. “Passed into the final cavern last winter.”