“I came to you! In the City, I came to you!”

“In the City, I was useless.”

“But you knew! You’ve known for years. You are this well trained? I thought you studied with a linguist! I thought Vathorem was a linguist!”

Dirva stood up. He took half a step towards me. He was bewildered. It bothered me; I wanted him shamed, and I wanted him frightened. I wanted him shaken to his core. But the most I dredged out of him was concern and confusion. “Vathorem is a linguist. And he is a shaper. I never lied to you.”

“You didn’t tell me the truth, either!”

“I…” He raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Yes. I do that. I’m sorry for that. Let me tell you about him,” he said. He took another careful step forward. I felt a slight pull from him, which abruptly stopped, like he’d thought the better of it. His fluency with his gifts raised my hackles. “Ariah, please. I would like to explain something, something that may be relevant to you.”

I shook my head. It was a violent thing, a rapid, whipping movement back and forth, back and forth. He stopped mid-step. “Liro was right. That was improper, what you did. You used me, and you used him. And you’re seeing a matchmaker, and you’ll use whatever woman the matchmaker pairs you with. There is a code, Dirva. You taught me little about this, but even I know that much.”

“Ariah, I’m sorry.”

I left. I left before he could say anything else, or do anything else. I left before he could explain himself. I left because I didn’t trust him, and I didn’t trust myself with him. I had very few places to go, and I ended up at Parvi’s shop. On the walk there I thought about Sorcha, and the night he’d caught me in his thrall. I remembered how it felt a violation, but how I knew it hadn’t been. What Dirva had done was a violation, made worse because it hadn’t felt like it. Parvi opened the door. “Professor? It’s close to curfew. We don’t have an appointment.”

I laughed. It was a cracked, broken laugh. I pinched my eyes shut and laughed that awful laugh again. “Would it be at all possible, sir, for me to sleep in your parlor tonight?”

“Sleep in my…Ariah, are you all right?”

“I have had better days.”

He sighed. He glanced over his shoulder, then out at the street, up one side then down the other. He sighed again. We both knew there would be talk. But he opened the door and ushered me inside. We stood just inside the doorway; he stared at me, and I stared at my feet. I felt very numb. I felt very hollow. Life seemed strung together, second by empty second. He cleared his voice. “May I ask?”