~ Chapter 1 ~
Maggie
The first time Maggie kissed Yuri Znkov, life suddenly made sense. She’d found her place in the universe. That was an illusion, of course. Their ending proved that. But as he met her eyes from the doorway of her quarantine room, the falsehood blasted its way back into her heart.
She dug her fingers into the mattress, pressed her heels against the floor, and waited for her common sense to kick in. She wasn’t still in love with someone who had nearly destroyed her eight years ago. That would be ridiculous. But latching onto the familiar in the midst of a nightmare seemed natural. Misguided, yes. But understandable.
And Yuri was still extraordinarily familiar as he leaned against the doorframe, all beautiful and self-assured. In a close-fitting black tunic and a long, vine-embroidered vest, he looked like some kind of fantasy realm fashion influencer. Which, for all Maggie knew, he was. But he also looked like the person she used to adore. The ends of his dark green hair curled around his shoulders rather than brushing his cheeks now. And his sage-tinted ears stretched over the top of his head thanks to all the magic in the Faerae atmosphere, ensuring he in no way passed as human anymore. But his emerald eyes, always his most captivating feature, filled with the cutting intelligence and intense focus she remembered too well.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted. Had that sounded aggressive? Unlikely. Aggression would require more energy than she possessed. She clutched her hands in her lap to keep from combing them through the dark lavender mess on her head and tried not to feel drab.
Despite the rude, possibly hostile question, Yuri’s lips twisted in amusement as he strolled to her bedside. Had he misheard her? She knew he still understood English; his ethereal talent allowed him to understand any language he heard spoken, just as hers would have let her read his emotions if she hadn’t recently acquired a ring to silence it. Despite how uncomfortable her newly boosted power had made her by forcing awareness of every emotion within several rooms of her, curiosity tempted her to slip the ring off to see if he was anywhere near as calm as he projected.
Her heart hammered as Yuri drew closer, moving with the assured stride of someone who knew they looked amazing doing it. To keep from focusing on his appearance or, worse, meeting his gaze again, she latched her attention onto the satchel he carried. It was the same gray as all the clothing the Immigration Nexus had issued her and featured a red logo with a gryphon-like creature surrounded by a script she’d seen a lot of since arriving in the Asharae Empire.
“I missed your birthday.” The bizarre statement brought Maggie’s eyes to Yuri’s for a heartbeat before he thrust an unbleached cloth bag tied with a bright rainbow rope between them. A startled laugh followed by a tiny sob led Yuri to yank the bag back in alarm, but she lurched for it.
Yuri’s grin after she snatched the bag came close to making Maggie forget she was holding something. Dammit. She wished she could blame exhaustion, but he’d always done that to her. “What are you doing here, really?”
He settled into the chair beside her as casually as if he owned it. “I recognize you were scared and heavily sedated during the deportation process, but you put my name on your paperwork.”
Oh. Right. She had, hadn’t she? “You’re the only person I know on this planet.”
“I figured.” He propped an elbow on the chair arm and rested his chin on his hand. “Open the present. Then you’ll have two friends here.”
Claiming they were friends felt like a stretch, but she needed one enough to let him get away with it. She looked in the bag and nearly cried over its contents. Blinking rapidly, she drew the plush dragon out and clutched it tight. “They made me leave Scaley,” she whispered, desperately trying to block the memory of being dragged from bed by armed assailants with government badges.
“I know,” Yuri said with soft sympathy.
She sniffled, hating the visible rawness of her emotions. Her fingers pressed against the top of her nose as she attempted to adjust glasses she no longer had. An enchantment had replaced them, etching scrolling, makeup-like patterns around her eyes. “You came to bring me a belated birthday present?”
“Partially.” He drew a deep breath and Maggie braced herself to learn some new, horrible thing. “But also, I’m your immigration liaison.”
Crinkling her nose, Maggie tried to make sense of the declaration. “They shipped me to a foreign country in an alien universe, and the person who’s going to help me settle there is, by some coincidence, my ex-boyfriend?”
Lime-green lightning shot through Yuri’s eyes. “Not a coincidence.” A pause left time for him to realize how creepy that sounded and his eyes widened as he rushed on. “You did put my name on that form. Plus, as I told you years ago, my hometown hosts the nearest gate to Seattle. And English is a rare skill here, so the immigration people were enthusiastic about recruiting me the second I showed the slightest willingness to help others. And since my Earth law credentials didn’t transfer, I needed a new career field.”
Yeah, okay. That made sense. Still… She held up a hand to stop him from spouting anything else in the odd accent he’d only had on Earth when he’d been drinking. Listening to the sing-song, vowel-heavy language spoken by the hospital staff helped explain where it came from, but the reminder of how much had changed invoked a dull ache in her chest. “And this is legal here?”
“It’s not illegal,” he answered easily. He tilted his head a smidge to peek up through his hair. It was a deliberate attempt to get her to drop the subject, and she knew it. Infuriatingly, she was the one who’d told him how attractive she found that look.
Narrowing her eyes, Maggie considered demanding he leave.
With an amused huff, Yuri straightened. “The agency’s regulations prohibit it, but I justified an override based on the scarcity of English speakers in my field.”
“Your field being immigration liaison-ing?” She stumbled over the wording but let the awkward phrasing lie where it landed. “Because you can’t practice law here?”
His sardonic smile accompanied a swirl of his wrist and a flexing of his fingers. Maggie had noticed the center’s staff talked with their hands a lot, like a second language overlaid the spoken one. Yuri had been prone to that in the past, but it hadn’t occurred to her his gesticulations were standard somewhere. “I’ve been working for the Department of Immigration while doing a second stint in law school. It’s taking a while.”
Somehow, she now had more questions rather than fewer. The floor swam in her vision as she whimpered, barely suppressing a sob.
“Don’t look at everything, Mags. There’s too much.” Yuri moved until his face was between her and the tile she’d been staring at. “Narrow your focus and deal with one specific issue before thinking about the next.”
Therapists had told her the same thing a million times, but it wasn’t easy to do. She nodded anyway, the motion provoking a lightheaded nausea. “Okay.”
“First, do you want a different liaison? I promise I wouldn’t be mad.” The vulnerability in his gaze twisted her heart. At least part of him had come into this room expecting rejection.
Trying to keep from crumbling apart, she took a deep breath. “No. I know you. And I trust you.”
It was mostly true, whether or not it should have been. In no part of the multiverse would Yuri physically harm her. Or let anyone else do it. She wouldn’t trust him with her heart though. Not again. His subdued ‘Good’ showed his awareness of the exception. And a shadow over his pursuing smile attested he felt the same way about her.
Vil
The first time Vil wore skates, it changed everything. He belonged on ice. As an icekin, it ran in his blood. Even when his life turned to trash and it would have been easy to discard skating with his lost hockey career, he couldn’t stay away.
Spectators weren’t as common as they once were. He’d played in front of millions in his professional life and would never attract that attention again. But people still watched often enough that the figure in his peripheral vision didn’t distract him as he zipped around the rink, drawing comfort from the schlck-schlck of his blades.
This particular observer wasn’t one to stay ignored for long though. Confident in her deep navy skin, Bex Daggerhart approached the boards with a dancer’s grace to call, “Rot, Vil, aggressive skating! What’s the Elder done now?”
He swooped toward the boards, slamming to an ice-spraying stop that had Bex swatting the air in mock-annoyance. She not-so-secretly loved it when he did that. Leaning over to grab the water bottle he’d stashed earlier, Vil answered her question before drinking. “Oddly enough, my illustrious trashfly of a grandmother isn’t upsetting me today.”
His best friend frowned at the declaration, worry surrounding her sapphire eyes. The lights flickered as if the room shared her concern, drawing sparkles from the silver flecks in her horns. Her shadow affinity lent itself to drama. “More problems with that pretty partner of yours?”
“Not really.”
Bex raised a singular eyebrow into the chaos of her cobalt hair. “Not the same as no. Also, not true.”
“Wasn’t? Rot.” Sometimes Bex’s ability to sense lies went off when Vil didn’t expect it to. Apparently, his attempts at convincing himself Yuri’s latest news was no big deal hadn’t succeeded. He sighed. “Expecting him with the Returner this afternoon.”
“Excited?”
“Am.” He was glad he could honestly say that. Noting Bex didn’t have her skates, which meant she wasn’t joining him on the ice, he hopped to sit on the ledge. “Have to use correct grammar around her. Will be weird. Should practice.”
“Or could teach New Person to drop unneeded words like normal people.”
“Anyway…” He drew the word out, delaying. “Turns out, she’s his ex. Which he mentioned in passing while leaving Vliketla.”
With a strangled sound, Bex rested her arms beside him and leaned over them. “Why fail to mention that detail?”
Like Vil didn’t wonder the same trashing thing. “Don’t know.”
Bex made a displeased hum. “Should know aren’t insecure enough to feel threatened by an ex and aren’t a territorial and controlling sewerwad like Helmsit. Officially tossed him, by the way. Thinks can keep me from loving other people? Not happening.”
Showing his palm, Vil slid it up over his head to show his approval of that. As far as he was concerned, that was half of the lovers she needed to toss gone. Not that he was rotwitted enough to suggest tossing her toxic girlfriend again. “Not tossing Yuri, but definitely asking why wasn’t more forthcoming.”
“Guess motivation matters,” Bex conceded, not sounding happy about it.
An itch between Vil’s crystalline horns brought his fingers up to scratch it. “Yeah. Plus, can’t do anything too drastic and still make Magdalena feel welcome.”
“More worried about her than about yourself.” Bex shook her head with the air of someone who’s given up on changing the person they’re talking to. “Why so rotting nice all the time?”
“Not her fault someone am in love with trashed up,” Vil pointed out. “Was thrown out of her home and dropped somewhere completely unlike it. Doesn’t speak Ashareek and is unlikely to find another host who understands English. And who knows how feels about her ex’s involvement?”
“Needs a friend, sure.” Bex met his eyes. “Has to be you?”
“Maybe not.” He watched the shadows ebb and wane across the ice in response to Bex’s presence. “But think can help her. And unless is truly awful, want to.”
“Fair enough.” Bex’s pinkies touched to back up her words. “But can yell at Yuri outside of her hearing, yesno?”
He grunted. “Certainly can.”
Bex let out a small snort, seeing the hope he wouldn’t have to without him mentioning it. “And certainly doesn’t mean can’t I yell at him if don’t. Which will do. Yuri didn’t just keep this secret until the last minute; also ignored you since learned this ex was coming. Can guarantee won’t enjoy hearing my opinion of that.”
“Can’t imagine will.” Vil straightened. “About time to open the Rabbit?”
“Yeah, come get some alcohol.”
As soon as Vil was in his street shoes, Bex led the way to her pub, where he tried not to worry about what Yuri might tell him upon arrival.
Yuri
The first time Yuri met Magdalena Delgato’s amethyst gaze, he knew he belonged with her. In that instant, an inseverable bond formed. A matebond. An impossibility. He should have lacked sufficient dragon heritage to recognize a bondmate. And when she broke his heart and danced away from the pieces, he told himself he’d been mistaken.
He insisted the same thing now, sitting in his skyboat as they flew to her new home. Their bond no longer stretched between them. His connection to Vil, whom he loved very much, had severed it.
When Yuri met Maggie’s eyes at the quarantine facility, nothing had happened. No zap of the bond renewing. No sensation like a missing chunk of his soul returning. Nothing indicating they belonged to each other. Problem was… Yuri was a trash liar. Everyone said so. He was so bad at it, he even had trouble lying to himself. The matebond was absolutely alive, whether he wanted the accursed thing or not. And all the stuff he claimed hadn’t happened totally had.
The matebond didn’t control him though. He was only helping her because his job required it. And because they’d once been friends. The friendship still meant something to Yuri. And it had meant enough to Maggie for her to reach for him.
His poster flashed with a message from Vil. It was amazing the man remained willing to talk to him after the garbage he’d pulled over the last three stanzas. Twelve days ago, Yuri learned of Maggie’s impending deportation. Eleven days ago, he secured her entry to the Empire by exploiting connections he couldn’t explain having. Ten days ago, he asked Vil to host her. The next day, he forced that through the approval process even though it should have been denied for the very obvious problem that Maggie’s potential host had a relationship with her liaison. Then he spent two stanzas avoiding communicating with Vil for more than a few words in a stretch. Until today. When he’d finally confessed he and Maggie were ex-lovers. As he loaded her into the swift.
Vil was the nicest, sweetest, most supportive person alive. A people pleaser if ever one existed. But he had to be angry. And Yuri couldn’t blame him; he was furious at himself.
“Everything okay?” Maggie asked. On Earth, she had to touch people to read their emotions. Her file reported that wasn’t necessary on Faereen, but she had a ring blocking her power. Yuri wasn’t hard to read, though, so he wasn’t surprised she caught a sense of something amiss.
“Just updating your host on when we’ll get there.” Yuri unclipped the pen from his poster so he could do that. Then he jotted another line about how bad he felt for keeping secrets before flicking to send the message.
“It’s really pretty here. Paradise-like.” Maggie leaned against the glass surrounding them, gazing out at the Ysverem Mountains. “Even in the city, trees outnumbered people. Or seemed to.”
“I haven’t seen the stats, but I’d guess the ratio is around four-to-one in favor of the trees in downtown Vliketla. Some suburbs have less flora, but we flew over the nicer ones.”
Maggie’s lips twisted into what he assumed was meant to be a smile as she wiped at her eyes. “I love it. But I keep thinking that there’s nothing for me to do here.”
With a nod, Yuri held back the impulse to reach out to her. “The conservation background transfers to more than you’d think. We do have some need for counter-pollution and environmental protection programs. But initially you’re going to-”
“Don’t tell me.” She jerked upright, giving him a determined look.
Frowning, Yuri studied the armor over her eyes. “You don’t want to know what job I’ve found you?”
“Not yet. Please?” She snuggled into the mound of pillows that took up the back half of the swift and pulled the blanket he’d offered earlier over herself. He’d told her a friend had crocheted it. It had been Vil’s cousin. “I’m taking your advice to approach things in small bursts. I can’t handle more right now. Need to process first.”
“Okay. Get some rest.” Part of the point in flying rather than taking the much quicker public portal system had been so that he could tell her things as they traveled. But maybe this was better for her. He watched her curl around the dragon he’d brought and close her eyes. He couldn’t imagine she’d actually sleep, but he could pretend along with her if it made things easier. It sucked that his magic could only heal cuts to the skin, not emotional wounds, because he would have loved to take her pain away.
Yuri always had plenty of work to do now that humanity had not only discovered the gates between their worlds but had developed a means of identifying Faeries. Humans lacked the magic needed to see the inhuman hues of magic species, but science was enough to see the differences in DNA. He had numerous other Returners he needed to check on, reports he had to write, and memos he should read. He didn’t do any of it.
He didn’t let himself draw Maggie, either. His willpower out-maneuvered his urge toward that creepiness, so when he got out his sketchbook, he constrained himself to studies of the landscape. But if he spent more time glancing at Maggie than regarding the subject matter… Better to get that out of his system now, wasn’t it? Because he was certain the expression he wore when he looked at her wasn’t one he wanted people to see.
~ Chapter 2 ~
Yuri & Sylf
5 Sixth Verse, First Day
(8:55)
From Sylf
Hey, sib! Sia says hi.
_____________________
(8:59)
From Yuri
Tell Sia hi back. Are you two a thing again?
_____________________
(8:60)
From Sylf
Depends on your definition of being a thing? We’re not dating. But she’s in my bed right now.
Speaking of reuniting with exes… How’s that going for you?
_____________________
(8:61)
From Yuri
I think we might be friends again. She didn’t curse me out and demand a different liaison at any rate.
_____________________
(8:61)
From Sylf
I should hope not. Why the incineration would she declare you as a contact then yell at you?
Also, points for not yelling at her.
Assuming you didn’t.
_____________________
(8:63)
From Yuri
Of course not.
She’s so broken.
I just want to glue her back together.
It’s always heart-wrenching when I get a Returner who’s never been here, but it being a bondmate is killing me.
_____________________
(8:63)
From Sylf
I love you, Squirrel. Don’t let her hurt you again though. Even if you do have an active matebond.
I don’t want to have to kill her.
_____________________
(2:63)
From Yuri
I won’t.
_____________________
(2:64)
From Sylf
I wish I believed you.
____________________________________________________________
Maggie
Maggie clutched her new dragon, Draka, as she walked through the mountain town Yuri had brought her to. It was adorable. And alien. Most of the buildings between the skydocks and her new residence were small chalet-deals covered in gardens everywhere a plant could grow. She assumed magic was involved in tethering the plants on the buildings’ sharp roofs. She was curious how well they withstood winter.
Both residential and commercial architecture favored multiple decks and nature-themed murals reminiscent of Bavaria. The easiest way to tell the difference between a house and a shop seemed to be that transparent windows fronted most of the businesses while the residences typically had stained glass ones. She wished she could share pictures of it all with her best friend, but she had no way to communicate with Aodhan unless a lot of gate restrictions got removed.
Like the city, the town lacked roads. Instead, walking paths of vibrant paving stones twisted through abundant plant life. No wonder she heard Yuri sniffing. All this vegetation couldn’t be easy on someone with as many allergies as him, even though some of the markings peeking from his sleeves had been explained as antihistamine charms. Despite it being autumn, plenty of things were blooming. Mostly the purple-leaved, magic-heavy plants Maggie refused to acknowledge.
To one side of the valley, ski slopes rose over the village, bare of snow at this time of year but promising winter fun. Lack of snow notwithstanding, more people moved around town than the number of houses would suggest lived there. presumably, the place boasted a healthy tourism industry even in the warmer months. If she had to be ripped away from home, at least she’d been dropped somewhere people liked to vacation. That was something.
Looming over them in the opposite direction was a castle. It was probably the least unusual thing here, even for an American. It looked like that famous one in Germany… Neuschwanstein? The one built by the king who supposedly wanted to live in a fairytale so much he built his idea of a fairytale castle. When he caught her staring at it, Yuri supplied the name Sky View House. “Who lives there?” she asked.
“No one. Gets rented out for conventions sometimes, but usually it just sits there reminding us all the landed aristocracy still somehow exists.”
“Seems like it should be a resort hotel if there’s no princess for it,” Maggie mused as they kept walking.
“I have lots of ideas for better uses for it. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to do any of them.” He flashed her a smile and shrugged despite carrying two of her three bags.
Maggie tried not to focus on Yuri. Or on anyone they passed. Many folks had wings, or animal ears, or stone skin, or demon-like horns, or some combination thereof. Some people towered at twice her height while others could fit in her vest pockets. A sea of rainbow skin tones far outnumbered the few people with familiar brown or beige coloring.
Her guide rushed her along with a steady stream of chatter she couldn’t follow, knowing her well enough to realize she needed a distraction from her terror. Her fingers and toes had lost all sensation, but she was hyper-aware of stabbing in her gut and painful clenching in her back. She couldn’t say whether she felt closer to crying or vomiting.
Yuri generally told the truth, but he’d omit the hell out of vital pieces of information. Enabled in part by her pretending to sleep most of the trip, he’d clearly done that about her host. She’s seen his face go sappy while messaging this Vil person, though, and consequently wasn’t shocked when the door of the house opened in response to Yuri’s palm.
Guilt coated the look he gave her, but Maggie ignored it and memorized the stained glass snowflakes covering the door so she could find the place again. Then her attention snapped to the interior and she let out a scream.
“Ninka!” Yuri called, rushing to intercept an all-white, tuft-eared cat the size of a German Shepherd.
Frozen on the porch, Maggie stared as Yuri fell to his knees to hug the massive predator. “Cat. Big. No glass. Want glass. Between us.”
At least she was too terrified to react to the grin Yuri shot her. “Yeah, Ninka’s larger than the house cats you’re used to. She’s also the sweetest marshmallow ever. Aren’t you, Ninx?”
House cat? With Yuri kneeling, the thing’s head was higher than his! Intent on staring at the monster, Maggie failed to register the person behind her until they turned from the path to bounce up the porch stairs. She screamed again, spinning to back against the door.
The man halted and held his hands up to show he wasn’t threatening. His skin was very close to pure white, saved from that fate by the barest kiss of blue, and the long hair waving in the breeze behind him was only marginally darker. The points of his ears barely reached through his hair, making them smaller than those of most elves. Was he elven? His chin and slightly crooked, perhaps often-broken, nose were sharper than most human ones, but a little blunt for an elf. And the pair of gorgeous crystal, or maybe icicle, horns he sported implied he might be something else.
The stone hanging at the base of his throat and the buttons on his sapphire vest matched his horns. However, apart from the crystals, his blue clothing was simpler than Yuri’s, closer to what she was wearing. Despite the bite in the air, his tunic was sleeveless. Tattooed snowflakes trailed down his upper arms, but he was missing the inked charms most people had on their forearms to prevent things like illness and unwanted pregnancy. Perhaps whatever type of being he was didn’t need those.
He smiled and raised his thin eyebrows, questioning if everything was okay now. His eyes were sky blue orbs flecked with white and filled with compassion. As she tried not to stare, the bits of white moved like he had snow falling from his pupils, drifting outward with the motion of lazy flurries. As he looked at her, the pace of the snow picked up. It took effort for her not to blurt out something stupid and potentially offensive, like ‘Wow! Your eyes are snowing! That’s so cool!’ One corner of his mouth slid up the tiniest bit higher than the other as she continued to look at him, like he could tell what she was thinking.
“Sorry I’m late,” the man said in heavily accented English. “My friend talked for too long. She does this.”
“Bex?” Yuri asked.
“Bex,” the newcomer responded without looking Yuri’s way. He extended an arm, holding his palm vertically. She learned previously that wasn’t a signal to stop here, but an alternative to shaking hands. “I’m Vil-ja. You’re Maggie-aj?”
Her palm tingled as she reflected his gesture, leaving a chunk of space between them, as was polite for someone you’d just met. Despite the air separating their hands, she felt an oddly comforting chill emanate from him. It had a noticeable effect on her tension, easing it enough for her to say, “Yeah, I’m Maggie. Where did you learn English?”
Vil shrugged, smiling with one half of his mouth. He was kinda cute. And nice. Seemed smart too. Also, he only triggered about a third of the desire to flee as most strangers she met. “My friends and I learned as kids so we could say things our parents wouldn’t understand,” he said with a mischievous lilt. “But I’ve gotten better since I met Yuri.”
“Nice.” Maggie held up an arm to show the jewelry on it. A standard issue smart-band showing the time in numbers she couldn’t read yet encircled her wrist, but below that hung a slender gray chain made of something like hematite. “Yuri gave me this bracelet so I can understand Ashareek, but it doesn’t help me know what to say.”
“Really?” The question was starkly cold, lacking the pleasant aspects of his personal chill. His narrowed eyes were on Yuri, though, so Maggie wasn’t the person he was upset with. Probably. She clutched her dragon tighter as she lowered her arm.
Yuri scrambled to his feet. “It’s a powersharer. I couldn’t find one that wasn’t a bracelet. I could special order a ring, but it wouldn’t be here until the end of the verse and it might not have fit.”
“Bracelets would be the default,” Vil said in Ashareek. He looked back at Maggie and his smile returned, less relaxed than before. “Which language would you like me to use?”
“Whichever you prefer.” It would be lovely if she knew the problem with Yuri giving her the bracelet. He’d said something about it being important she put it on her nondominant hand, so maybe bracelets signaled relationships here? If that was explained when gifting the item, then maybe she wouldn’t have blabbed about it to his freaking boyfriend the second she met the guy.
“I’ll use both, then,” Vil said in English. His eyes dropped to Draka, but he didn’t say anything to explain the odd expression it provoked. Instead, he gestured toward the interior of the house. “Welcome to your new home, Maggie.”
Right. She was blocking the doorway. Chagrined, Maggie pressed her fingers to her nose, attempting to push up the glasses she no longer possessed, adjusted her satchel higher on her shoulder, and shuffled into the actual dwelling.
Vil
Vil wondered what his home looked like from Maggie’s perspective. The polished cedar walls, the ceramic fire alcove, the floor mosaics, the dappled multi-colored light from the stained windows, and the purple glowvines shining overhead were all perfectly ordinary to him. Uninspired, even. But from her huge eyes and parted lips, he could tell none of this seemed normal to Maggie.
With her button nose, mop of curly hair, and scattered freckles, the woman was adorable. And whoever inked the vision charms around her eyes had done an exquisite job with them, creating scrollwork that faded into her pale lavender cheeks as though dissolving into stars. And the delight she’d met his eyes with, so different from the usual unease he received, hadn’t hurt his impression of her.
He needed to stop marveling at her appearance, though, and work out how to make her more comfortable. The poor thing was on the verge of tears, trying so hard to seem positive that he just wanted to hug her and tell her it was okay to cry if she needed to. Terror lurked under her skin, making it impossible to regret hosting her, no matter how weird the situation was.
Meanwhile, a desire to yell at Yuri for not doing more to make her feel safe battled with the necessity of projecting calm.
“I bet you’re overwhelmed,” he told her, pretty close to that state himself. “Would alcohol, wispweed, or tea help?”
“I don’t know what wispweed is.” Her eyes shimmered.
“It’s similar to cannabis,” Yuri provided. He took the boots Maggie had just slid off her feet and found the cubby Vil had cleared for her.
“Oh. Tea for now? Please?”
Vil met her gaze with a soft smile. “Of course. And there’s food if you’re hungry.”
As he drifted toward the kitchen, she followed, giving Ninka a wide berth. He didn’t bother telling her the cat was harmless, recognizing her unease wasn’t of the logical variety.
A chirping sound drew attention to Yuri, who relaxed when Vil looked back his way but sighed audibly while bringing his hand to the speechstone hanging under his throat. “Hey, Anita. How’s doings?”
Anita. Great. Just the complication they needed.
“Yuri!” She dragged out his name to the length of a full sentence. “These people are horrible! You need to move me! Can’t I stay with you?”
This again? Vil signaled, “Good luck,” and walked to the faucet to fill the water kettle.
Yuri’s voice was calm while responding to his neediest client. “You know that can’t happen. But if you tell me what’s going on, I’ll see how I can help. Just give me a minute. Folks? I’ll be on the porch if you need me. I’m sorry.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Vil caught the plea Yuri sent him. He signed, “Okay.” Then after a pause, he shifted his fingers into the pattern for “I love you.”
Yuri reflected the second one before giving Maggie a little wave and dipping out the door.
Within an instant, Maggie shifted back to terror mode. Vil’s heart pinched. He didn’t want her to be afraid but wasn’t sure how to alleviate her anxiety. For the first time, it occurred to him it must be rare for the agency to house a Returner in the home of a single host. He added that to his list of strange things about this placement.
“Will be a while,” Vil said. “Anita is… Special. Can’t tell if she really needs as much handholding as she demands or if she just really wants to sleep with Yuri.”
Wait. Should he have admitted that part? Probably not. Too late now. Maggie didn’t seem thrown by it as she sat at the kitchen island. “Does he get that often?”
Had she seen him? Talked to him? Spent any time around him at all? Vil raised his eyebrows. “Looking like he does, being clinically unable to turn off his charisma, and rescuing people as a profession? Yeah. Constantly.”
“Must make dating him a challenge.” Her eyes were on the crystal kettle as the water reached a boil. He wondered if she’d ever seen one like it.
“Told you about that, then?”
Her eyes slid up. “Not in words. My fault. I asked a lot of questions about other things, then told him I couldn’t process more information. Slept most of the trip in an attempt to postpone my next freakout. But I saw him writing you, so I knew. He looked completely besotted. It was sweet.”
“Besotted?” Vil didn’t know that word.
A tiny smile met the question. “He’s in love with you.”
“So he tells me.” Vil even believed him most of the time.
Rot. The answer had made Maggie frown. She shifted her weight. “And he told you about our connection, right?”
“Of course.” No need to mention how long he’d waited to do it. Vil opened the tea cupboard.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“No. Does it bother you? His relationship with me, I mean?” He turned back to watch her as she considered the question.
“I think your relationship with him makes me more comfortable, although I’m not sure why. It makes you both seem safer somehow?” She shrugged, seeming to consider that unimportant. Her eyes focused behind him. “Wow. Is that all tea? I didn’t think anyone had as big a stash as my moms, but that may beat them.”
He smiled. “I own a teashop.”
“Really?” She perked up. “Is that where I’ll be working?”
“That’s the plan.” It took some of the sting out of Yuri not telling her about their relationship if he hadn’t gotten to tell her about her new job either. “Want something energizing or something calming?”
“Do I have to pick?” she asked.
With an amused huff, he grabbed something with both a mildly sedating herb and a stimulant. “Think this will work. Want to drink it here or while you tour the house?”
“Tour?” She bit her lip. “And after I visit the bathroom?”
He pointed her to the ground floor one and got the tea steeping.
Yuri
Yuri came inside just as Vil led Maggie up from the basement viewing room. She was nearly crying because Faereen had streaming platforms and video games. Being emotional over familiar concepts was normal at this stage, but why was she acting surprised? He’d told her about both things way back when he lived on Earth. Whatever. He wouldn’t let that hurt. At least she remembered him teaching her Fortune, a card game similar to the Earth game Tarot. And she didn’t shed tears over the shelf of board games in the dining area. Not even over the cribbage board, although that one was a close call.
He trailed behind her and Vil on the stairs to the second floor. Then he had to ease past them when she stopped to stare at the painting on the landing. She turned to him, something unreadable in her expression. “You’ve improved.”
He frowned at the artwork. “You think I painted that?” He had, but how had she figured it out so quickly? Artists didn’t sign the front of pieces on Faereen.
“Totally.” She approached the landscape. “It’s your style. The stroke length, the angles…” She glanced back. “Angles that suggest left-handedness.”
“Most elves are left-handed,” he pointed out.
“Still…” She waved a hand. “The reversal of tones that has things usually warm presented cool and vice-versa, but only when the artist wanted them to draw extra attention. The geometric patterns in the snow. This ridge is the one I saw when we flew in, demonstrating the artist’s familiarity with the area. Plus, that squirrel looking at us from the mid-ground peripheral might as well be a signature, Squirrel.”
She emphasized his nickname. Nowadays, only his sister used it. Which was fair since Sylf had gifted it to him. Squirrels weren’t even native to Faereen, although Maggie may not have known that.
Vil peered at the landscape like he’d never noticed most of that. “Are you an artist too?”
“No.” Maggie sighed and stepped back. “I just spent a lot of time looking at Yuri’s stuff after he left me with an apartment full of it.”
Yuri’s guts twisted. He wasn’t brave enough to see Vil’s reaction to that piece of information. Or to acknowledge it with an apology.
“So.” Maggie clapped her hands and moved on. “That looks like a bathroom…”
“Shower-room,” Vil supplied. “We share that, but we have private toilets.” He pointed left. “My room. If you need my attention at night and the door’s closed, you’ll have to touch it to break the soundproofing. Same deal on your side.”
“Does Ninka fit through that?” Maggie asked, indicating the flap on Vil’s door.
“Believe it or not.” Vil smiled and opened the remaining door. “And this is your room. The wood door is a closet and the glass one goes to the back deck, which gets a nice breeze in late afternoon. I have access to it too, just so you’re not surprised by that. Both that glass and the windows are one-way, so no one can see in, but you can set them to completely dark if you prefer. Or halfway between if you want some light but not too much…” He trailed off awkwardly.
Maggie entered and all three pieces of her luggage materialized on the bed. On Earth, she’d only been able to teleport things she could see, but powers frequently manifested stronger on Faereen. “Anyone mind if I settle in some? Maybe use the shower? Is it complicated?”
While Vil showed her how the shower worked, Yuri retreated to the kitchen. There, he proceeded to stare at the contents of the cold-cabinet with no clue what to do next. He’d thought he could start dinner, but what was Vil planning to make?
He was still staring when Vil’s footsteps announced his arrival. A moment later, Vil spoke. “Anything you care to discuss?”
Vil’s tone made it clear he had a topic in mind. Yuri’s shoulders slumped as he turned to see Vil leaning against the island with folded arms and a tense expression. Yuri prodded the coldcab closed and took a tiny step toward Vil. “I should have told you she was my ex when I asked you to host her.”
“Think?” A mist spread with the words, evidence Vil was lowering the temperature. Probably without meaning to. “Why didn’t?”
Yuri didn’t dare get closer. Wrapping his arms around himself, he tried to stop the feeling that his insides were falling out. It didn’t help. “I keep asking myself that and can’t find a decent answer. Just really trash excuses.”
“Did you think I’d refuse to help if knew?”
Yuri’s eyes flew back to Vil’s. “No. If I told you she was important to me, you’d be more likely to help her.”
“Absolutely.” With a loud sigh, Vil put his hands on the counter and lifted himself to sit on it. The action implied he wouldn’t storm off, but didn’t settle Yuri’s nerves. Telling when Vil was being careful with his words was easy; he started including pronoun subjects, a direct violation of the local tendency to drop them. He only did that with Yuri when something seriously distressed him. “It doesn’t feel like a coincidence that she ended up on your client list.”
Of course it wasn’t a coincidence. But Yuri couldn’t tell Vil how he’d made it happen. The same enchantment that kept him from letting the others know about their matebonds prevented him from explaining. A half-truth would have to suffice. “She came through the Vliketla gate after putting my name down as a contact. Because I’m the only person she knows on this world.”
Vil spent a moment regarding Yuri, not giving any clues about what he was thinking. “Alright. But I’m hazy why she’d be assigned to you as part of the Returner’s Hope Program. Did she opt out?”
“No. She’s still in it.”
“Okay…” Vil looked up at the ceiling. “Shouldn’t she be with a different liaison then? At minimum, it seems like she shouldn’t be with me.”
“Typically, she wouldn’t be with either of us,” Yuri admitted. “But I got waivers.”
“How?” Vil’s eyes landed on him and he fought an urge to squirm.
Laughing, Yuri delivered the truth like a joke. Surprisingly, the enchantment let him get away with it. “I called Empress Katsara and asked her for help. I’m so incredibly hard to say no to that she agreed to do me a favor. Want me to call her personal speechstone so you can verify that?”
The ploy got Vil to roll his eyes, although part of Yuri had hoped he’d say yes. Yuri wasn’t sure what the enchantment would do if he attempted to call Aunt Kat in front of someone. “So, Dana decided it was easier this way? Guess that’s reasonable. She does love handing you extra jobs.”
Yuri spread his hands to convey, “There you go,” and tried not to feel bad about being misleading. It was the least of his crimes. “The smart thing to do when Maggie’s name hit my desk was to declare a conflict and make someone else handle her. Whether Dana wanted the complication or not. And I thought about it.”
“Yet, didn’t,” Vil waved the thumb and forefingers of his left hand forward in the sign to continue.
“No.” Drawing a deep breath, Yuri dropped his eyes to the floor and tried to remember any of the explanations he’d thought of over the last several days. “The idea of Maggie winding up somewhere dangerous, or even just with people who’d be less compassionate than us… I couldn’t handle it. I needed to know she’d be safe and cared for.”
“Of course you did,” Vil said gently. “You’re still in love with her.”
Yuri’s gaze snapped up again. “No. I’m not.”
The flatness in Vil’s expression said he wasn’t buying that even before he added words. “At least you being this bad at lying means I recognize when you’re doing it.”
“I’m not lying,” Yuri insisted. He wasn’t in love with her. He couldn’t afford to be. Matebonds didn’t automatically equal love. “There’s residual attachment, sure, but that’s all.”
Vil watched him for a long moment.
Fine. “I’m not lying. I’m just scared I’m wrong.”
Another silence spread out between them, dragging on until Yuri nearly screamed into it. Then Vil nodded and held out his hand. Cautiously, Yuri took it as Vil spoke again. “Am struggling to understand why you shut me out for three stanzas over this. You can love, or not love, whoever you want. But you have to talk to me.”
Yuri stared at Vil’s fingers curled around his. “I wanted to talk. But I couldn’t think what to say.”
“Chose the wrong script. Anything would have been better than nothing.” Vil pulled on their hands until Yuri met his gaze again. “Yuri, you have an admitted tendency to distance yourself from people rather than tossing them, then hope they toss you over it. Were doing it to someone when we met.”
The implications of that shot to Yuri’s core. As barbed wire tore through his intestines, he rushed forward to wrap Vil in his arms. Rather than shove him away like he deserved, Vil spread his legs to make room and clung back. “I’m so sorry, Vil. It never occurred to me you might be worried about that. I… I love you. You’re a forever person. If I haven’t been clear about that, it’s because I was scared of scaring you. I am not going away unless you force me to. Ever.”
“Love you too, poppet.” Vil trembled as his grip strengthened. Poppet. Things would be okay if he was using endearments. “And if you ghost me again, I’ll try to have enough confidence to hunt you down and demand to know why.”
Not only did Vil have access to Yuri’s apartment, but he had the power to track people who were important to him. Yuri was determined to keep his slot on that list. “It won’t happen again. It was a completely rotten cesspit of a move. And I am so, so sorry.”
“Me too. Should have gone to you. Could have supported you instead of leaving you drowning in doom.”
“Drowning in doom?” Yuri repeated with a hint of laughter. Then he sobered. “Actually, that’s an apt description. But it’s my fault you didn’t know to help.”
Vil’s spiced winter forest scent wrapped around Yuri as they held each other. He smelled like home, if home were a concept one was extraordinarily driven to make love to. How could Yuri have him made doubt being desired? Yuri absolutely cherished him. He was vitally important, and so was their relationship. That’s why Yuri needed to say what he said next. “And, um… However I do or don’t feel about Maggie, things are staying platonic there.”
“Because it ended badly last time?”
“Not just that.” Yuri pulled back to regard Vil’s expression, which held a squint of confusion. “I haven’t asked, because I occasionally imitate someone with sense, but I’m willing to bet she still requires couple-obsession.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Yuri agreed as he rested his head against Vil again. “Oh.”
After a moment, Vil’s arms tightened. “Alright. Will make food. You get the music? Loaded my most recent Erfaerae acquisitions already. A bunch of pop punk from the turn of the century. If think she’d like that.”
“She’ll like it so much she might cry.” Yuri held on instead of letting Vil start dinner. “Can I cling a little longer?”
“Only if I can cling back.”
“Deal.”
~ Chapter 3 ~
Vil & Vanya
6 Sixth Verse, First Day
(14:20)
From Vanya
Get your delivery yet?
_____________________
(14:20)
From Vil
Her name is Maggie. And, yeah, is here. Is interesting.
_____________________
(14:21)
From Vanya
Good interesting?
_____________________
(14:21)
From Vil
Think? Hard to tell. Traumatized and exhausted. Seems friendly, though, and definitely cute.
Sort of wish hadn’t turned out to be Yuri’s ex, but not her fault he didn’t tell me that.
_____________________
(14:22)
From Vanya
Back up, cousin! Yuri’s ex? And he didn’t warn you?
_____________________
(14:98)
From Vanya
Can’t just light an explosive and vanish. Is uncouth.
_____________________
7 Sixth Verse, Second Day
(0:12)
From Vil
Sorry. Fell asleep.
But, yeah. After Yuri had her in the swift coming here, dropped a post best paraphrased as, “Surprise! Is my ex. Hope is cool.”
And neither seems over the other. Also, she demands couple-obsession? Which…. A heads up about any of that would have been trashing pleasant.
_____________________
(1:38)
From Vanya
Please tell me you didn’t let him in the house.
_____________________
(1:46)
From Vil
Trying to make Maggie feel welcome. Yelling at Yuri about her being here wouldn’t have done that.
Did talk about it though.
_____________________
(1:47)
From Vanya
You’re too nice. Yell more, forgive less.
Related: fire Lachelle.
_____________________
(1:49)
From Vil
Hoping Maggie’s going to make that easier.
The Elder will still be a problem.
Maggie could be a garden slug and out-perform Lachelle though.
_____________________
(1:52)
From Vanya
Potentially without sexually harassing you. Unless she’s cute enough her hitting on you would be welcome?
_____________________
(1:57)
From Vil
On one side of the coin, totally is. But on the other is the huge, impossible-to-ignore detail of her being Yuri’s couple-obsessed ex.
_____________________
(1:61)
From Vanya
Was joking. But that is an important detail.
______________________________________________________________
Yuri
Yuri massaged the ache in his temple while Anita screeched at him about how unfair everyone was being to her. Normally, he didn’t have trouble staying sympathetic to his clients when they vented their anger at him. He specialized in people labeled as Returners despite never having been to Faereen. Since most of them had entered the world gate against their will, it stood to reason they’d be upset with life. He tried to be patient with them, cognizant they were weathering the worst experiences of their lives. But Anita was getting on his last nerve.
“I understand your frustration,” he told her when the aqua-skinned drama queen eventually shut the rot up. “Do you understand why screaming threats at people’s children upsets them?”
“Please. I wouldn’t hurt the obnoxious snots. But they’d broken into my room again.” They’d been through this. By alleging they’d broken into her room, she meant they’d knocked on the door, then opened it without crossing the threshold. They’d done it without permission, but they were four.
He gave her a look he trusted appeared unimpressed. “You threatened to hang them up with meat hooks and strip their skin off. Because they opened your door to tell you dinner was ready.”
“I was masturbating!”
“No one is saying they were right to open the door without waiting for permission,” Yuri pointed out. He kept from adding that he knew her room had a lock as that was a hosting requirement. If she didn’t know how to use it, she should have asked someone. “But threats to torture kids to death, even hyperbolic heat-of-the-moment ones, aren’t acceptable.”
“Why is everyone so sensitive here?” she bemoaned. “And why do I have to masturbate all the time anyway? Everyone here is polyamorous. Shouldn’t that make it easy to find hookups?”
That didn’t strike Yuri as something he should comment on. “You’ve been put on a restricted list for potential violence. In addition to a required anger management course, you’re going to be required to agree to magic dampening.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
He met her eyes and did his best to channel the stern disapproval of a disappointed parent. “You have shown no ability to control yourself, and you can strike people motionless. Which means they can’t defend themselves against you.”
“Yuri! You know I’m harmless.”
“Do I?”
The question prompted a disbelieving stare.
Mindfully drawing on compassion, Yuri spread his hands. “Do I think you’re a horrible person? Of course not. But can I guarantee you won’t hurt someone out of anger? Not really. And I need to be able to do that.”
Arms folded, she slumped in her chair and sulked. “Okay. I understand.”
He wasn’t sure she did, but she seemed dispirited enough to move on. “Your therapist reports you’ve been skipping appointments.”
“Because he’s useless,” she muttered.
“If you want a new therapist, we can find you one. But you know regular therapy sessions are a requirement of the Returners Program.” It was a reasonable insistence. Whether they struggled with anger, PTSD, depression, some other problem, or a combination of the aforementioned issues, all Returners required mental health care as they adjusted to their new circumstances. Some accepted it more readily than others. Learning she had a professional to help her process everything she was going through had thrilled Maggie. Anita was a brat about it. “The Empire wants you to succeed here. But this is an international program and we’re under no obligation to offer you citizenship rather than shipping you to the next country on the list. I don’t enjoy using that as a threat, but I need you to understand how important cooperating with me is.”
“I’d cooperate more if you ever cooperated with me.”
Ugh. From Yuri’s point of view, he’d done nothing but cooperate with this woman. But her point of view appeared to be that he hadn’t let her seduce him, so he was being obstinate and obstructionist. Worse, she extended this attitude to society in general. Maybe he should make her some other nation’s problem. “I’ve accommodated as many of your wants as I legally and morally can. If you want to request a different liaison, you have the form to send my boss on your slate.”
“I like you.” Her fingers played with the edge of her neckline. She’d replaced her government-supplied, practical gray clothes with a wardrobe of bright and immodestly cut selections. Today’s hot pink sundress scooped nearly to her nipples and she’d skipped the vest that might have made it slightly more modest.
It would be nice if she didn’t like him, but Yuri couldn’t make himself be mean enough to change that. It would likely backfire anyway. He got the impression she’d enjoy a bit of abuse. He pulled up the file he’d spent all morning writing, casting it to his desk display with copies on both his and Anita’s sides. “This is your new action plan. You’re going to sign every page to show your consent to it. And then I will take you to an inpatient anger management facility. Hopefully by the time you complete their program, I’ll have found a new host.”
She glared at every page. But she signed them all.
Two hours later, Yuri came back to learn he was late for a surprise all-hands meeting. Lovely. At this rate, he couldn’t imagine when he’d get back to Maggie. Or Vil… He needed to do more to fix his screw up with Vil. Drowned in a cesspit if he knew what though. For now, he settled for posting at least once an hour with updates on the various chunks of trash that kept him in the city far longer than he wanted.
Vil
Yuri routinely got called back to the city against plans, so it failed to shock Vil when it happened on Maggie’s first night. It was frustrating, but not Yuri’s fault. It’s not like he asked to be woken up three hours after going to sleep to deal with an emergency, but Anita’s hosts were insisting on her removal. Right that second. Felt she was a threat to their kids. She probably wasn’t, but that type of concern is hard to dismiss.
Maggie took the news well, claiming she needed solitude anyway.
With Yuri gone and Maggie holed up in bed, Vil tackled the disarray in his storage room. He’d dumped a ton of boxes in there when he returned to his hometown four years ago and hadn’t touched them since. It wasn’t the easiest of tasks, emotionally speaking.
When a soft knock interrupted his focus, Vil was grateful for it. Pretending he hadn’t been busy dredging up unresolved issues, he plastered on his public-facing smile and turned to see Maggie shuffling in the doorway. Her hand dropped to give Ninka a scratch. Good. “How’s doings? Was about to break for lunch.”
Her tense posture had him worried something was seriously wrong with the slate she held up, but the concern eased when she explained. “This reverted to Ashareek. Help me find the setting for English?”
Her slate had an English mode? That wouldn’t have been cheap. Had the agency paid for it, or had Yuri? Vil held out his hand to take it, turning the screen so she could watch him navigate the menus, narrating as he went and taking care to use full sentences. “You select the open book for settings. Then you touch the icon of people talking for language. You’d think the options would be written in appropriate scripts, but no. English is the last one though. Then I’ll pop back to the etherary, and it looks like it’s translating today’s newspapers. That’s impressive.”
He was about to return the device and circle back to lunch when she shrieked.
Pushing past him, she ran to an area he hadn’t gotten to yet. “Is that a hockey stick? Hockey exists here? You play hockey?”
“I’ve played a bit. You like hockey?” She sounded like she did. He hoped she did.
“I love hockey!” With both hands wrapped around the stick, she grinned at him. It made his stomach execute an odd flip he did his best to ignore. “I only played a little. As a kid. But I watch all the Kraken games!” A sick expression took over her glee. “Or I did.”
With a sympathetic nod, he walked closer to her and flexed a little. “Getting recordings of regular season games is probably impossible, but I can hook you up with the Stanley Cup finals every year.”
“That probably won’t help with the Kraken,” she said, not seeming to understand that his connections were hard to come by. Then her eyes sprang wide. “Wait. You know what the Stanley Cup is.”
He laughed. “Sure. It’s like the Thorn Cup, but easier to hold.”
“The Thorn Cup?”
Since he’d just been through a box of image slabs, he knew where to reach for the picture of him holding the thing. Was that showing off too much? Did he care? “It’s our highest trophy. And it’s covered in thorns.”
Laying the stick gently to the side, Maggie took the picture and stared at it. “That’s you.” She brought her gaze to him. “You’ve played a bit, you said? You’re a professional hockey player. That’s more than a bit.”
With a small wince, he shook his head. “Not anymore. Medical condition left me dependent on a magical device. And there’s no magic allowed on the ice. But before that, spent twelve seasons with the Vliketla Vsharae.” The person in the picture barely felt like him. They were so happy, so optimistic, so ignorant of the disorder that was about to be triggered by a fan-placed charm. “I coach kids these days, but don’t play anymore.”
“Coaching kids is cool. You need help?” She returned the image slab, frowning a little as he put it back in its box and closed the lid.
“Actually… I lost my old assistant.” Local rules differed from the ones she knew but explaining them would be easy enough. Assuming she could stay upright on skates, she seemed like a viable candidate to take over from Bex. Besides, it wasn’t like people were lining up to volunteer. “We’re a little over a verse from starting.”
“A verse is like a month, right?”
“It’s seven stanzas, or twenty-eight days.” He dragged out a box awaiting sorting. “I think these are my old jerseys if you want one. First step to becoming a Vsharae fan.”
“Really?” She came so close he could feel her breath against his arm as he revealed he’d been right about the contents. He leafed through the uniforms, trying not to dwell much on them. “But aren’t these special?” she asked.
“Yes and no? I put them aside for reasons. The one from the picture is here. The one from my first game. Stuff like that. But the papers I hung with them explaining what each one was didn’t make it into the box when my ex was getting everything out of her house. So the most I can determine is which season they’re from. But not always since some designs repeated multiple years.” With a shake of his head and a long sigh, he pulled out one from his last year. “I still don’t know if she understood what she was doing.”
“Right.” Maggie took a half step back. “Either way, ouch. Even if she didn’t, that implies things that mattered to you were irrelevant to her.”
“That’s the snake’s venom, yeah.” He held out the jersey he’d picked for her. “Want this? It’s from my final season.”
Without hesitation, she grabbed it, snatching the thing like she thought he would change his mind. He had to chuckle at the enthusiasm. How could the Erfaerae authorities be so cruel to someone this sweet? Could someone torture those people? They deserved it. “I can get you one from the upcoming season if you’d rather.”
“No!” She clutched the garment to her. Then she paled. “I mean, I’d rather have one of yours if that’s okay. It’s not like I have another favorite player anyway. Might as well be you, right?”
“Your favorite active player is Maandra Leskenova,” he predicted. “Leskie’s everyone’s favorite. She’s not just good, she’s fun to watch.”
“She?” Maggie’s nose crinkled in confusion. Dear stars, that was cute.
“Very few activities are gender specific here.”
“Wow.” She held the jersey up in front of her. “This water dragon thing is a vsharae?”
“Vshara,” he corrected. “Vsharae is plural. But, yes. And Vliketla is the city you came here through, where Yuri works. It’s the closest one to here by far. And it’s the capital of our province, Yskereen.”
Turning the shirt around, she studied the back. “And that’s your name?”
“Veyndgraf, yeah.”
“What did they call you?” she asked, her head tilting to the side. The move exposed a small mole usually shadowed by her chin. He had an unsettling urge to examine it closer. “Veyndie?”
“Nah.” He closed the jerseys box to keep from staring at her as she pulled her gift over her head right then and there. He’d seen plenty of people wearing replicas of his jerseys, but something about Maggie drowning in one he’d actually worn brought up a lot of feelings he refused to analyze. “I was Graf.”
“Graf.” She grabbed her slate as she followed him out of the room. “I like it.”
Somehow, the usual sting of his career being in the past tense was less intense than usual as he told her stories while making lunch. Maybe he should talk about his past more, bury it less. Because not only did the conversation seem to help Maggie, it made his soul lighter too. Maybe knowing Maggie would prove good for him in unanticipated ways.
Maggie
Maggie awoke on her second morning in Vil’s house with a sore throat and a racing heart as Vil sprinted into her room. “Nightmare,” she gasped.
Vil nodded, but didn’t leave. “Must have been an intense one.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed, the extra moisture doing nothing to help the pain in her throat. “Sorry I woke you. I had to leave the door open for Ninka. It was just a bad memory though. I’m alright.”
“Okay,” he said softly. She could tell he’d listen if she wanted to say more, but he didn’t press her. “Close to time to wake up anyway. I’ll start breakfast.”
At some point, she needed to stop him from making every meal for her, but this wasn’t the time for it. She took a shower, then let Vil feed her fresh scones. He even made coffee! He’d hunted it down just for her and served it like that was something anyone would have done.
As soon as the sun was high enough, Maggie let Vil lead her outside to show off his hometown. She grabbed Draka, clutching the dragon for emotional support and tried to focus on excitement more than terror.
The tour started by walking through the residential area around the house while discussing Vil’s neighbors before he moved to the broader basics of the town. “The ski area is called Snow Song. That comes from the original name of that ridge.” He pointed to one side of the valley they were in, the one with the castle on it rather than the one the ski lifts serviced. “In Yskern, Nia Reywt Etya means Village of Snow’s Song. But Ashareek doesn’t have the ‘yw’ sound, so that got dropped in the modern name.”
“Poetic.” Maggie clutched her dragon and tried not to whimper as she realized they were heading to a covered bridge. It looked old, and the gap between it and the river was deep enough to be considered a ravine. “Does the castle have a Yskern name or is it too new? Yskern’s old, right?”
“Extremely. But still spoken as a secondary language. The translation of Sky View House is Ywen Kian Gesha,” Vil supplied. He slowed and gave her a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”
“Little nervous about the bridge,” she admitted. “But it’s fine. I’ll just go fast so it doesn’t have time to throw me into the river.”
“Are you sure? There are less scary bridges. Or we can stay on this side of town.”
“I’m sure.” Before she could talk herself out of it, she surged forward at a rapid near-run.
Keeping pace with her, Vil continued answering the question about Sky View. “Most of the castle was built after Ysk was rolled into the Empire as Yskereen, but there was an older one there they plundered for building materials. And that was Nia Ywtwi Af Kalishar. The Castle Made of Snow.”
“Oh, I like that!” She completed her dash across the bridge and looked up at the building as she caught her breath. “Snow Castle is a much better name than Sky View House for that thing. Does ‘house’ mean something different here? Or is local society really into irony?”
“House means somewhere beings live, doesn’t mention size.” Vil gave her another view of his half-smile. “But not the word most folks would select, no.”
“So what’s this?” She waved to the sprawling building across a pleasant glade from them. “And if you say ‘a house’ I may scream.”
“My old school,” he said, touching his pinky to his chest. The gesture likely meant something, but Maggie didn’t want to interrupt to ask what. “Is all ages, four to twenty. Although I tested out early to focus on hockey. Was required to take years of Yskern if were wondering how know so much of it.”
She had been a little. “Was thinking maybe you’re one of those people who collect languages.”
He chuckled. “Not really. Not as a scholar, anyway. Can have conversations in a fair number though. In almost anything I ever had a teammate who spoke.”
“Is your league like the NHL?” she asked as they resumed walking. “With people from all over the world? Or are there a lot of languages within the Empire?”
“Little bit of both. Everyone in the Empire speaks Ashareek, but most have a second language. Not every region uses theirs much.” He waved at a group of kids playing outside the school. They shouted his name, but didn’t seem upset when he didn’t stop to talk to them. He’d explained earlier that while he had this set of four days off, most of society had taken the four prior. Most verses included two such breaks, called Rest Stanzas. “Around here, Yskern is only for ceremonial stuff and speaking past tourists. Although some accuse of not really speaking Ashareek, between accents and cutting words.”
“So I shouldn’t worry about learning Yskern until after I’m fluent in Ashareek?”
“If then.”
The tour resumed, covering less tourist-focused stuff than the areas she’d passed through with Yuri. Vil pointed out an apartment building. “That’s where my best friend, Bex, lives. Will like her, but sleeps late because runs a pub that’s open late.”
A few steps later, he stopped and frowned at the ground. “This stone is too hot.” He got out his poster and wrote something. “Reporting that. Should only heat when it’s below freezing.”
Heated walkways. Nice.
Nearly every building had a story, and Vil knew all of them. Maggie hated she wouldn’t be able to tell Aodhan any of the more interesting ones. A second bridge, a chunky stone structure, invoked much less terror than its companion. It was still a bridge though. Vil’s voice was gentle as he checked, “Okay with crossing?”
“If I say no, will I have to move in with your friend?”
Vil chuckled. “There’s a third one you might like, and it’s between a brewery and a distillery if that would help with courage. But there’s also a park Yuri could land his swift in. Not legally, but the head of the local guardians owes me a favor.”
“I’m not uncomfortable enough to warrant burning a favor from law enforcement.” With the brightest smile she could muster, she resumed walking. She still hugged Draka, but this bridge was significantly less freaky. It neither swayed nor creaked as she made her way over it. She stopped on the other side and examined some graffiti on the wall of a beer garden. “What’s this bat-winged weasel I keep seeing?”
“That’s a zymra. Yuri has two pet zymrae you’re going to love.” Absently, Vil scratched the side of a horn. “The drawings are political statements. Yskereen doesn’t have elected representatives. Has to do with the Kingdom of Ysk joining the Empire through marriage rather than being conquered. Most of us think that’s trash. But there’s a group, sort of a secret society, called the Yskies who are actively trying to influence the federal government with awareness campaigns and protests and stuff. I’m pretty sure Bex is with them, but I’m not, because… Well, I’m just not. But you look strained, so let’s say it’s their mascot and move on?”
Strained was an understatement. The barriers she’d shoved her anxiety behind were taking a beating and would crumble soon. She needed to return to the safety of the house before then. Besides, she needed to eat lunch before her over-ether therapy appointment. Researching the Yskies later would be a simple matter; the etherary was no harder than the internet. It had a lot fewer pictures due to more rules about who and what sites could show, but better quality control stemming from international government oversight. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Taking the shortest route home, they strolled through a pleasant park on the edge of the drop into the river. Vil talked just enough to keep Maggie’s anxiety from doom spiraling. A decent number of people were there, but Vil didn’t make her stop to meet any of the ones who greeted him. She had no idea if locals considered that rude or not. Her host seemed popular enough people would let him explain later if so. Even the pixie that flew up to hover by his face and ask a teashop question didn’t act offended to get only a smile and a polite invitation to drop into the place when they were open the next day.
The only time Vil slowed to give her a questioning look was when they came across a trio walking a pair of bright blue zymrae. The critters were cute, though larger than she’d expected, being about twice the size of the domestic ferrets she’d known. They flew at the ends of their leashes on wings too small for non-magic-assisted flight, but one landed to lope along beside their caretakers as she watched. Maggie almost asked if she could pet them, but shook her head to keep moving. Maybe if they’d only had one elf with them rather than three she would have found more bravery.
Maggie walked quietly, hugged her dragon, did her best not to feel freakish, and thanked the fates that she at least had a compassionate host looking out for her. Even if he was dating her ex. That just meant questionable taste in partners was on the growing list of things they had in common. She could only hope she wouldn’t have to watch Yuri break his heart too.
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