“It’s not fair!” Beq glared at her. “You know what you’re doing. I hadn’t even thought about … that sort of thing, until—”

“Wait,” Maya said. “Who says I know what I’m doing?”

“You’re a centarch,” Beq said. “And you spent years traveling around the Republic.”

“With my master,” Maya said. “Who is the next thing to my mother.”

“But you …” Beq hesitated, looking down again. “You seemed to know what you wanted.”

“I mean.” Maya felt her cheeks growing hot and was glad her darker complexion didn’t show a flush the way Beq’s did. “I’m not going to say I haven’t … imagined things. When I’m by myself. You know. But I don’t have any, um. Practical experience.”

“Oh.” Beq sat quietly for a moment, digesting that. “You … imagined things.”

Maya wanted to bury her head in her hands. “Yes.”

“With me?”

“Y … yes.”

“And then you—”

Maya drew her knees up, hiding her face from Beq’s gaze, and gave a tiny nod.

“Oh,” Beq said again. Her breath seemed to come very fast, and Maya felt her own heart hammering. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t even know what to imagine.”

Maya sucked in a breath, but when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

“Do you. Um.” She paused and gathered her strength. “Do you want me to show you?”

*

And then, somewhat later, an awful thought struck Maya like a thunderbolt. She pulled her lips away from Beq’s and sat up, very abruptly.

Beq lay on the bed, green hair coiled beside her, hands on Maya’s flanks. Maya had undone the buttons on her uniform shirt and pulled it open, revealing the mesmerizing sweep of her collarbone and the inner slopes of her breasts, dusted with freckles like her cheeks. Maya was above her, on hands and knees, breathing like she’d just finished a sparring match.

“What’s wrong?” Beq said. “Did I do something—”

“No, no, no,” Maya said. “Sorry. It’s not you. I just.” She swallowed. “I realize there’s something I need to show you.” She reached, hesitantly, for the front of her bathrobe.

“Um. Is it breasts?” Beq glanced down at herself. “Because I know I’m not experienced, but I don’t think that would be such a surprise.”

“No, it’s not breasts,” Maya said. “I mean, it is, I have those, but … listen. You can’t tell anyone about this. Not anyone.”

“I’m very confused,” Beq said, sitting up on her elbows.

“Just promise me.”

“All right.”

Maya took a deep breath and pulled open the bathrobe, letting it fall to her waist. She felt suddenly, horribly vulnerable—not for her skin, but for the Thing, which was dug in above her breastbone like a crystal-encrusted tick.

“Oh,” Beq said. And then, “Oh. The arcana.” Her eyes narrowed behind her lenses. “Is it—stuck there?”