Orfeus stepped forward and danced a step. She weaved light around her, as best she could. In her mind, she pictured the intended purpose: the illusion would cast light off. Cast suspicion off, though she doubted Blood could achieve anything quite that subtle. Still, intention was everything in magic as in music, and as Orfeus crept forward she thought of silence, and shadows, and nothingness. Unnoticeable and barely there. Just a whisper in the hallway. Nothing at all. Nothing to notice.

She gripped a pipe and swung up it, putting her stocking feet into crannies of the wall. From there she could swing up into a crevice and push herself against it. Her illusion dropped during the climb, and she couldn’t really cue it up again from up here. Orfeus drew her cloak around her and ducked her head forward. Her skin wouldn’t show against the shadows, but the whites of her eyes would if she was fool enough to show them.

She pressed her ear against the wall.

Half an hour ago, she’d heard Faolan walking through the corridor as she crept about, and it seemed whatever conversation he was having hadn’t been interrupted. Hopefully and presumably, they hadn’t noticed her skulking.

Orfeus congratulated herself on her stealth. The scent of lavender on her cloak, up against her nose, made her want to sneeze. Perhaps herbs weren’t the ideal excuse.

Luga’s cool precise voice came through, and Orfeus concentrated hard, picking out words. He said, “You know I wanted to blood her.”

Orfeus pressed her head to the wall, listening intensely. Faolan’s voice rumbled out. “It wasn’t time.” Orfeus rubbed her fingers together idly, waiting for more.

Luga said, “You don’t get to decide when it is time, Wolf.”

She could picture Faol, standing square-shouldered and stubborn-jawed, always convinced she was right. “She will kill when she’s ready,” the Wolf said.

Orfeus put her hand over her mouth to keep from making any sound.

The conversation resumed, but for a moment it was just voices, meaningless noise she couldn’t distinguish. Her mind spun. So to Faol it had been some act of charity, killing that man? So Orfeus wouldn’t have to, or did he just not think she was capable? What game was the Wolf playing?

Focus. A clever fox didn’t get distracted.

She pressed her ear to the wall and focused.

“She healed Ocelot,” Luga said. Orfeus narrowed her eyes. Did they spend all the time they were in there talking about her? She should have spent more time eavesdropping, not grieving and lying in the dark like a fool. She didn’t hear Boarhound in there. Maybe ve was still asleep.

“Yes,” Faolan said. He had no right sounding so possessively proud.

“But on the mission, she didn’t heal you,” Luga said.

There was a pause. “No,” Faol said, gruffer. Orfeus dropped her hand, blinking. She… hadn’t even thought to.