I rub the sore spot on my head. The Macazi are magicless, so she can’t hurt me… magically, that is. The knot between my shoulders eases a little. “What do you want with me?”

“I have questions. At this point, there’s no issue between us.”

At this point?

She gestures for me to sit, but I don’t. I have no reason to distrust the Macazi. But I have no reason to trust them either.

“I have questions too. Where are my friends?”

She sits on the edge of my bed, probably to make me feel more at ease. But everything in her tight tone and stern stare makes me clench my fists. I don’t like this. She gestures again.

“I’m standing. Answer my question.”

“Me, first.” She crosses one leg over the other. “What happened to Totsi?”

Of course they know each other. The way that old woman looked at me—the shock on her face when she realized I wasn’t whom she’d expected—told me Totsi was protecting these people.

“I had nothing to do with her…” I can’t finish the sentence. Saying it aloud somehow makes it more real. Last time I saw Tot, she told me I’d always have a friend at her store. Was this what she meant? They don’t seem friendly. Had she known someone would come for her?

She presses her lips tight and looks away. Her shoulders hang. I move to face her, but she turns her head even farther from me. This lady isn’t trying to hurt me… at least I don’t think she is. I swallow the lump in my throat that I’m almost sure is something mixed with pride.

“Look, I found the shop like that. Last time I saw Totsi, she was smiling and fine.”

Her chin falls, and pressure to fill the silence needles at me.

“I’ve heard Loyalists are behind it,” I go on. “That the Chancellor put a hit on her.”

Her lip flinches and her fingers swipe away something from her cheek. “Thanks. And your friends are fine. Both are still asleep, I believe.”

“I want to see them. Now.”

“You will. I promise you, they’re fine. Grag told me you all were… alright.”

Grag. He didn’t clue me in to the secret trapdoor in Totsi’s shop. But he apparently vouched for us? Something about him doesn’t add up. Or there’s a chance I’m overthinking it.

I sit on the edge of the bed, far enough away in case she tries to pop off but close enough to see that she’s not tense because she’s angry. She’s tense because she’s sad. Maybe me and this lady just started off on the wrong foot.

“Totsi was a friend to me,” I say.