It all came back to Luga. Luga who sent them after Linden with false claims, Linden who led her to Significance. Significance hadn’t heard of her before she first met xem, but Luga certainly had.

Luga, who wanted people who could do the harder thing.

Orfeus roused a little as they came into the base’s airspace, approaching the looming metal rectangle of grey and black. Luga’s flying castle, where he sat tugging at threads. Even so, when she’d called it ‘home,’ she meant it.

Faol landed neat as ever, in a trim line cruising to a stop half a metre from the bike docking stations.

The Wolf’s hands settled at her waist like she planned to bodily lift her, and Orfeus gently brushed her hands off and stood herself. Her head swayed only a little. Progress.

“I’ll get you some juice?” Faolan said.

“Oh, bless your heart,” Orfeus said fervently, “you are making excellent progress to me kissing you again.”

Faol frown-smiled. “I need to work my way up?”

“Clearly, shortstack.”

Faolan frown-smiled a little bigger. Orfeus wasn’t sure if that meant it was more of a frown or more of a smile.

They walked together through the halls, but Orfeus’s steps slowed, slowed, until she came to a stop outside the corridor that led to Luga’s throne room. “I need a word with Luga,” she said. Lying should have been easy, by now, but she still had to force it to her tongue. “Just a report.”

She ached, she needed rest and blood sugars, and medical attention, from the Owl instead of just intelligent but nowhere near sapient tiny machines in her blood. This was the worst possible time to do this, but she was so tired, and she couldn’t rest until the work was done.

Faolan looked hesitant. Orfeus tensed, balling her hand, but Faol said, “Luga did not want me to go on missions alone.”

Orfeus relaxed. “I’ll put in a good word for you,” she suggested.

Faolan quickly shook his head.

She smirked after him as he turned and strode off. She swayed, one hand to the wall, and determined she could stand on her own, just.

She nearly hoped Luga wouldn’t be here right now, would be asleep or in the mess hall. Then Orfeus could go to her room and curl up on her small bed and look at her plants, maybe with a Wolf bundled in her arms all muscle and warmth.

Life was not so kind. She came to the door, and Dormarch the Boarhound stood in front like a sentry. Ve wouldn’t do that for an empty room.

Dormarch was as sober as she had ever seen vem: deadly, dreadly, drearily sober, with sleepless black smears under ver eyes, the panting dog mask like a mockery of ver bleak spirit. “Please don’t,” Dormarch said. “Fox, if our friendship has meant anything, please don’t.”