The morning following Dinara’s Unity performance promised a beautiful day. Beams of sunslight streamed through the trailer’s windows and an easy breeze rattled the chimes hanging in the doorway. Outside, the sky was cloudless, clear for the suns’ tandem trek across its blue and gold expanse. Too bad Dinara was too hungover to appreciate it.


    She rolled to face Roman. The fact that he was still here, in bed, meant he must be feeling it as well — normally, he was gone before Dinara had even stirred. Without so much as opening his eyes, he mumbled, “Go back to sleep.”


    Dinara tried to laugh, but groaned when it made her head throb. “Ow. I feel gross.”


    “You know what would help with that? More sleep.”


    “Ugh.” Dinara squinted at him. “Do I remember you leaving in the middle of the night?”


    Realizing she wasn’t about to let him rest, Roman buried his face in his pillow. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said, muffled. “Walked around a bit.”


    No wonder he was still here. She should let him sleep, or try going back to sleep herself, but the sunslight streaming in through the windows wouldn’t let her. “I’m hungry. Something greasy sounds good, doesn’t it? Would you make something?” When he only ignored her, she prodded his side. “We could do something fun, after.”


    At that, Roman finally cracked an eye open. Dark bags sat under them, but that was nothing new. “Like what?”


    “An adventure. It doesn’t matter, as long as we do it together.”


    Roman yawned and stretched like a lazy house cat. As he settled back into the mattress, he tried pulling Dinara to him, but she laughed and squirmed away. If she fell into that trap now, she’d never escape. Roman’s body radiated warmth, perfect for curling into and falling asleep against, but mornings with Roman were too rare. She’d like to spend this one doing something other than sleeping.


    “C’mon, I’m finally free of Edith! We should celebrate.”


    “We celebrated plenty last night.”


    “Not in all the ways I would have liked,” Dinara cooed, running her fingers meaningfully down to his waistband, loving the way his cheeks flushed in response. Between his tossing and turning and the morning’s humidity, his curls were all mussed, falling into his face. Dinara loved seeing him like this, soft and unguarded. She said a quick thanks to Atiuh for the opportunity.


    Roman caught her hand before it could trail any lower. “Make up your mind,” he accused, though his smile was fond. “What happened to your breakfast?”


    “That can wait, don’t you think?”


    “And your adventure?”


    “Forget it. Let’s stay in.”


    Roman laughed. “But now I want to know what you had in mind.”


    “Ugh.” Dinara quickly wracked her brain for something. As she looked around the room, her gaze fell on an opera mask hanging on the wall: a token from her first leading role. “Do you remember what you said the first time you saw our costume trailer?”


    “...No,” Roman admitted, after a moment’s thought.


    Dinara rolled her eyes. “Your memory is really awful sometimes, Roman. You said you wanted to wear one of the demon masks somewhere and play tricks on passersby.”


    Roman was silent for so long Dinara almost accused him of falling back asleep, but then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d say, does it?”


    Dinara gave him a flat look.


    “Wouldn’t you get in trouble?” he asked.


    “With Cahrn? That’s never stopped us before. Besides, after last night’s show, he adores me. If he catches us, we can just say we were advertising.”


    Roman felt around the bedside table until he found Dinara’s watch, checking it as he sat up. A small furrow appeared between his brows, but it was gone before Dinara could even comment, buried under a yawn. “It’s a compelling proposition. We can discuss this adventure of yours more while I cook.”


    Two hours later found them outside, costume crates open all around them. Explaining their plan to the costuming assistant hadn’t gone over well, but Roman had complimented the taurel she was pressing and they’d bonded over the language of flowers — something Dinara didn’t realize he even knew — and she’d agreed to look the other way. She’d even let them haul the crates back to Dinara’s trailer, at Roman’s insistence.


    “What about this one?” Roman asked for the twelfth time. He pulled on a flat, wooden mask depicting an open-mouthed face.


    Dinara snorted when she saw it. “If you’re looking to scare people, that won’t do. It’s sky blue, Roman. It’s smiling.”


    “It’s snarling!”


    “It’s from one of our children’s shows.”


    Roman’s hands dropped from where he’d been holding them up like claws. The mask tipped to one side as he tilted his head. “The general public doesn’t know that, do they? It could still be scary if you weren’t expecting it.”


    “Maybe.” Dinara, who’d had a mask picked out for half an hour while Roman flitted between options, pulled hers on. It had a long, wrinkled snout and protrusive brows that formed shadows around the eyes. She took a step back, into the path, so Roman could see it better. “But it’s nothing like mine.”


    Roman stared from behind his mask. “You might scare people too well with that one, Di.”


    Before Dinara could respond, a blur with blonde hair rounded the corner and collided with Dinara. Dinara shrieked as they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, the blur cursing and apologizing in the same breath. It was just a girl, Dinara saw when she untangled herself. An orinian girl. What was she doing here? Dinara opened her mouth to ask, but when the girl saw her mask, she shrieked in return.


    “Wait, it’s only a costume!” Roman said. Dinara hastily lifted her mask so the girl could see.


    The girt fell back on her ass in the dirt with a winded huff. “Oh,” she said. Before she could say anything else, though, a whistle sounded down the street and she cast a fearful look in its direction.


    Without hesitation, Roman kicked the ends of her dark cloak so it covered her tail, grabbed a helmet out of the closest crate, and dropped it onto her head. Only moments later, before the girl even had time to react, four men on horseback turned onto the path, their badges and helmets identifying them as Gallontean police. The girl tensed, but Roman subtly held out a hand, urging her to be still.


    “What is this? What’s with the masks?” one of the approaching officers called.


    Roman lifted his mask and Dinara noticed the orinian girl give a startled jolt. “Officers,” Roman greeted cheerfully. “Surely, you know where you are? This is the Webhon Players’ camp; we’re a travelling troupe from Adondai. Five shows a week at the Rinehart Festival and one for Unity, in fact, just last night.”


    That got the officers to lift their hands from the clubs at their sides, at least. Dinara pushed herself to her feet; she didn’t know what Roman was doing, but she trusted him. For now, she’d play along. “We were just taking stock of some old costumes,” she said. “Is there a problem, officers?”


    “We heard screams,” said another officer, watching them through narrowed eyes.


    “Ah, sorry to be a bother. Ms. Condeh here found a spider when she opened a crate and isn’t fond of the creatures. Rest assured, I’ve since eliminated the treat,” Roman said with a winning smile. Dinara looked down at her feet, as if ashamed. Fortunately, the officers seemed to buy it.


    “Please keep it down in the future,” said the first officer. “Say, did anyone suspicious come through here?”


    Roman casually positioned himself in front of the orinian. “Suspicious how?”


    “We’re looking for an orinian fugitive. She’s very dangerous.”The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    While Dinara twitched at the word “dangerous,” Roman didn’t so much as blink. “I did see someone running toward the festival grounds. Now that you mention it, they might’ve had a tail,” he said.


    Without so much as a thank you, the officers took off again. Roman watched them go with a dark expression, but he brightened when he turned back to his companions. “There. That’ll keep them busy.”


    “Are you quite sure about this?” Dinara asked Roman. The officers were long gone, but she still whispered.


    Roman gestured at the orinian, who still sat on the ground with the helmet over her head, watching them. “She clearly needs help.”


    “They called her dangerous!”


    “I’m right here,” the girl pointed out, her voice muffled by papier-maché. “But thank you, also.”


    “She’s an orinian in Unity’s capital city. It’s not hard to figure out what happened, so be charitable,” Roman said, making Dinara’s cheeks heat up. She felt like a child, scolded for misbehaving. Roman didn’t notice her reaction, though, laughing as he finally took in the girl’s helmet. It was round, painted like a baby’s head with rosy cheeks and a single curl on its forehead. “That thing’s scarier than both of our masks combined, Di. What show is that for?”


    “Roman,” Dinara chided.


    “Roman? Roman...Hallisey?” the girl suddenly asked.


    “You know him? Roman, do you know her?” Dinara asked.


    “I don’t need to know her to hate Gallontea’s cops,” Roman said brightly. When the girl started to lift her helmet, he stopped her. “Not here. You’re not going to hurt either of us, right?”


    The girl violently shook her head, the helmet rocking.


    “There. See?” he said to Dinara. “She means no harm. This is Dinara Condeh, and you are...?”


    “Um,” the orinian said, staring at Roman. Only her eyes were visible behind the helmet, wide and unblinking. When Roman held a hand out, though, she let him pull her up. “Maebhe.”


    “Maebhe...” Dinara repeated thoughtfully. She gasped. “You’re Gareth and Isobel’s missing orinian! When I saw your tail, I thought...but what a coincidence! Maebhe Cairn, right?”


    “Di?” Roman asked, brows furrowed.


    “You might’ve been elsewhere when the Ranulfs told me about her. I was so drunk at that point, I almost forgot.”


    Dinara was so excited that she didn’t notice Maebhe backing slowly away. Roman noticed, though, and caught the girl by the wrist before she could get far. “Where are you going?” he asked.


    Maebhe tried to pry his hand free, frowning when she couldn’t get so much as a finger to budge. “I appreciate the help, but I really shouldn’t have come here.”


    “But the Ranulfs will be so happy to hear you’re okay! They’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Dinara said.


    Maebhe struggled harder against Roman’s grip. “All the more reason for me to go.”


    “But they only want to help!”


    At that, Maebhe stilled. Satisfied she wouldn’t run, Roman released her. “Let us get you some food and a change of clothes. We’ve got bacon, eggs, and toast inside. You can decide what you want to do once you’ve eaten.”


    Maebhe’s stomach decided for her, choosing that moment to grumble loudly. Her tail swished beneath her cloak, which was slightly too long for her. “I’ll take the toast and eggs, but I don’t eat meat.”


    While Roman stuffed the costumes back into the crates, Dinara coaxed Maebhe into the trailer, served up food, and drew her a bath. Aside from her cloak, the girl’s clothes were a mess — dirty, wrinkled, torn. She had nearly a foot on the petite Dinara, so they had to give her a set of Roman’s, instead. Finally, though, when Maebhe sat on the mattress with wet hair, too-long trousers, and jam on her fingers, she began to open up.


    “We had bad luck on our way here, ran into that group of officers. There were more of them, to start, but the boy helping me drew their attention so I could run,” she said, briefly meeting Roman’s gaze before settling on Dinara, instead. “I hope he’s safe.”


    “Let’s worry about you, first,” Roman said. “It sounds like that’s what he would’ve wanted.”


    Dinara stared at him. They were dealing with police and fugitives, but he didn’t seem shaken at all. He’d lied to the police like it was nothing. The fact that Maebhe had been coming here, looking for him, specifically, didn’t seem to surprise him in the slightest. “Wait, but who was he?” she asked. “Why’d he bring you here? How did you know Roman’s name?”


    Maebhe glanced at Roman again, quickly and then away. “His name was Aleksir. I met him and...his friend last night. They said Roman could help me save my brother,” she explained. When Roman didn’t object, she added, “I don’t know how much Gareth told you, but my brother and his fiancee were arrested. I, uh, thought Gareth was working with Unity, so I ran from him. Isn’t he a Magistrate?”


    Roman shook his head. “Just the brother of one. He’s naive, but a decent fellow overall. If he already knows you and wants to help, we should start with him. Getting your family free through the proper channels would be ideal.”


    Dinara didn’t want to know what improper channels might look like. Truth told, she didn’t want to know anything more at all. “Roman, this is bigger than us. Maybe we should just take her to Gareth, let him help instead.”


    “It’s bigger than you, Di,” Roman said, again with that tone — neither unkind nor condescending, more like the gentle scolding an elder might give to a child. But they were the same age, for Atiuh’s sake! Dinara snapped her mouth shut and glared at him, but he crouched in front of Maebhe and didn’t see.


    “If you want my help, you need to tell me everything. Start from the beginning,” he said.


    And so Maebhe did, starting with her family’s arrival in Gallontea, covering their arrest the day before and the way she tracked the police back to Unity’s Island, ending with the morning’s adventure with the boy named Aleksir. It sounded like the beginning of a fiction, a show the Players might put on.


    “The Oracle of Damael,” Dinara breathed, forgetting to be angry. “What would one of the Oracle’s agents know about Roman? ”Are you sure they worked for her? Really?”


    Maebhe shrugged. “They had the tattoo.”


    “Tattoo?” Dinara asked.


    Maebhe brightened pointing to her long ear. A line of delicate gold earrings hung off it. “Don’t you know the legends? The Oracle’s agents all have her sign tattooed behind her ear, because their Lady hears all. If you see the purple ink, you know you can trust them,” Maebhe explained.


    “The pigment can only be made in Damael,” Roman explained, not meeting Dinara’s eye. To Maebhe, he explained, “Di is from the north. The Oracle’s agents rarely make it up that far, so they don’t have much cause to discuss her.”


    Dinara was staring at him again. “Roman, you have a purple symbol tattooed behind your ear.”


    Roman winced. He had the gall to look surprised that Dinara knew, as if she hadn’t seen every inch of him. And as if it would free him from the conversation, he covered the spot with his hand. That explained how this Aleksir knew him — or knew of him, at the least. Dinara couldn’t believe it. An agent of the Oracle? Roman? The Players liked to speculate about his past, inventing outlandish theories, but this was too fantastical.


    Maebhe watched them through her long bangs. Cautiously, she asked, “So you work for her, too? Did you ever meet Egil?”


    Roman scoffed. “Hm? How old do you think I am?”


    Maebhe stuck her tongue out in answer, clearly an instinctual response to his tone. It reminded Dinara of her younger brothers. “You say that, but why’d Aleksir introduce his friend as Egil?” Maebhe asked, giving him a pointed look.


    Briefly, very briefly, Roman stilled. Then, he laughed. “And you believed that?”


    Maebhe shrugged. “Not really. I just wanted to see your reaction. Either way, the guy seemed confident you could help me, so I chose to trust him. Did I waste my time?”


    Roman let out a slow breath. “You didn’t,” he said.


    He said it so confidently, so seriously, that for a moment Dinara didn’t even recognize the man before her. Where was her sweet, silly Roman, who flirted and teased and joked? Their trailer, normally so roomy, felt too small to hold the magnitude of this stranger. She would believe this person knew the Oracle. She’d even believe he knew Egil.


    But it was Roman. Wasn’t it? In the end, she forced herself to look away. “Your story matches Gareth’s, so I have to believe it, but I don’t understand. What does Unity think one girl is going to do?” she asked.


    “Protest, fight, spy, sabotage,” Roman said, ticking off possibilities on his fingers. When he looked at her, she had to fight not to shudder. His eyes were a flat black, colder than Dinara had ever seen them. They pierced through her and past her, somehow making her feel both seen and invisible. “Realistically, they don’t think she’s going to do anything, they just don’t want her or her family here — because having her here reminds Gallonteans that orinians are people, too.”


    Maebhe’s lip wobbled. Seeing it, Roman blinked, eyes refocusing. By the time he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, Maebhe had begun to cry.


    “Look what you did!” Dinara accused, hurrying to sit beside Maebhe on the bed.


    Though she tried to hold it back, Maebhe was a messy crier, and the harder she fought it the messier she got, blotchy and snotty and wet. Horrified, Dinara rubbed her back in soothing circles and Roman scrambled for a handkerchief. “Come now, Ms. Cairn,” Roman said gently. “I’ll help you and your family. Please don’t cry.”


    “I’m not doing it on purpose!” Maebhe said, crying even harder. She scrubbed at her face. “Call me Maebhe.”


    “Maebhe,” Roman agreed. Desperately, he asked, “Would you like more toast?”


    Maebhe nodded. It seemed to help, too.


    “Roman,” Dinara started after Maebhe had been fed. She sat beside Dinara sadly eating toast and occasionally hiccupping, tears more or less dried. “What about Unity?”


    “Kono ta’hy lehah,” she said, switching to sheman so Maebhe wouldn’t be able to understand. She wouldn’t give the girl any more cause to cry, if she could help it, but she had to voice her concerns.


    Roman switched as well, though his own phrasing was halting and messy. “They’ll kill me if they catch me. But they have to catch me.” He frowned. “How would I say that as a...conditional?” he asked, switching back to the standardized ellesian for the word “conditional.”


    “You want to ask me about grammar? Roman, I don’t care if you work for the Oracle of Damae. You can’t smuggle fugitives out of the capital city, innocent or not. Unity will hate you.”


    “Good.”


    “What is wrong with you?” Dinara hissed. “Who are you?”


    Irritation flitting briefly across his features, Roman shook his head and switched back to ellesian for good. “Dinara, I’m not asking you to join me, but I will get Maebhe and her family home.”


    “Tell me something true,” Dinara said, still in sheman. “Tell me one honest thing and I’ll help.”


    Roman regarded her for a long moment. Dinara thought that was pity in the set of his brow, but there was nothing at all in his flat black eyes. “I know you’re worried,” he said, “But I have the skill to do this. That is the truth.”


    Dinara released the breath she’d been holding. “Fine,” she said.


    “Let’s visit Gareth, first,” Roman said, turning to Maebhe. “If we’re lucky, he can use those family connections of his to free Kieran and Ide. If not, I know another way.”


    “Visit? Don’t you have his phone number?” Dinara asked.


    “No, but I know where they’re staying. If we go now—”


    “I have their phone number,” Dinara said. “Isobel gave it to me last night.”


    Roman blinked, then his expression thawed. His smile was almost the one Dinara remembered. “I could kiss you, Di. Maebhe, give us an hour. The phone’s across camp, but Dinara will be back as soon as we can.”


    “O-okay,” Maebhe said, but they were already gone, Roman dragging Dinara off faster than she could keep up. To the now-empty trailer, Maebhe announced, “I’ll just wait here, then.”