Obviously Bellan had never liked her, but the second he saw her his face went pale and he jerked back, hands coming up in front of him as if to shield himself. “We mean no harm!” he said. His voice wavered, but he positioned himself to block her way in. “We’re not coal-sellers or energy criminals, I swear it, we would never. This house is just my luxury – please—”

Orfeus frowned. Taking off her mask had never crossed her mind, even once she landed and no longer needed protection from the wind. She pushed it further back, pointedly. “Calm down, Bellan.”

The tension bled from him, and his face darkened. “Oh,” he said. “Orfeus.” She found it interesting to hear her name spat like a curse word. He half-closed the door, glowering out at her through the crack. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

Orfeus resisted the urge to shove her boot into the space. She smiled her mildest and hopefully least adulterous smile, and said, “That’s fine. I’d rather she tell me herself, though.” Always better to get messages firsthand.

Bellan nodded shortly and slammed the door. Orfeus was sure she felt the wind of it passing an inch from her nose. She waited placidly, showing no impatience or worry on her face: they had a peephole.

Just when she had started to worry Bellan might have shoved his wife in a dye vat sometime in the month she was away, the door opened a reluctant inch.

Primrose looked out from the crack. Her frown didn’t stop her face from taking Orfeus’s breath away. A stinging joy racketed through her heart, and Orfeus breathed in deep. She had missed her. Honoured Earth, she had missed her so much.

Primrose looked her in the eye, brow wrinkling. She said, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I just want information—” Orfeus started, but Primrose had already closed the door, in her face.

Orfeus stood, feet like lead. That had undeniably been Primrose’s decision, not Bellan’s words in her mouth. She wasn’t one to tolerate people swaying her.

Prim wouldn’t tolerate people disregarding her stated wishes, either. That was almost heartening. Orfeus had always fought and struggled to charm her, and now it was easy: to please Primrose most, she need merely stay far away.

She left.

Doors slammed as she walked down the street, and people hurried away from her. Hardly surprising, considering what had happened the first time hunters of the Wild showed up here. Still it felt sour and unexpectedly painful, like poking a forgotten bruise.

Failing any personal connections left in this provincial place, the Hub was the best place to get information. Orfeus fixed her mask over her face and put her hood up. Maybe she wouldn’t be recognised.

She strode in, and Threadgall Weaver looked up at her.